Dates

It was 2 years ago today that we said goodbye to our first baby.

When I was pregnant with Norah, and even before that, I vowed to not complain about baby related things publicly. Time after time, I saw moms complain about the many difficulties of raising kids. The kids are cranky, baby won't stop crying, baby is teething, and my least favorite- complaints about the sleepless nights. If I could have, I would have walked up to their front door with a bag labeled "sleep" and trade all of my sleep for a healthy, living child. I knew in the end, they'd rather have the baby than the sleep, but the complaints still stung. While they were up all night with a baby, I was sleeping way too many hours a day because of my lack of a baby.

For the sake of the point I'd like to make though, I'm going to complain for a second. Norah was just about the best sleeper ever until she was 3 months old. For some reason, it all hit the fan and it's been a big struggle since. Lately it's gotten even worse. Sometimes she will be awake from 11 PM-3 AM, happy as can be as if it were an appropriate time to wake up. Now the only way for her to sleep longer than 45 minutes at a time is if she's in her swing, in our room. Not ideal. But desperation has set in and she sleeps peacefully there for many hours and we all finally get some rest.

Honestly, I am very frustrated by this. I cannot figure it out. Every time she has a good nights sleep I think "oh it was just a phase" and then the next weird sleeping (or non-sleeping) habit introduces itself.

I get frustrated.

Until days like today roll around.

Today I am reminded why I am okay with the sleeplessness I'm facing. Today I remember the many dates that remind me of my losses.

Anyone who has lost a loved one has their list of dates. For someone who had a pregnancy cut short it might be the day you found out you were pregnant, the day you found out if you were having a boy or a girl, and of course the expected due date. Along with those happy dates are the sad ones, the day you found out there was no heartbeat, or the day you were forced to say goodbye. These days are hard every year as they roll around.

I look at Norah and I think about her big brother*. I think about what he would have been like, if he would have been a good sleeper, if he would have been as expressive and joyful as she is, or if he would look like me. I think about this child who I said goodbye to without ever getting to meet- the very child who made me a mother.

The sleepless nights aren't that bad all of the sudden. Instead, I might reach to feel Norah's heartbeat in her chest. The sound of that very heart was the most beautiful noise I heard while pregnant. After hearing the words "there's no heartbeat" you become a little more aware of how beautiful and important a thumping heart really is. Now I can't hear her heartbeat like I used to. But I feel it. I see her smile, I hear her giggle, I hear her cry on occasion, and I hear her happy yells all day long. Norah shows me how vibrant and alive a person can be. When I get frustrated by this zealous life keeping me awake at 2 AM to play and show me all of her new tricks, it's pretty quickly that I remember that I'll take it.

I'll take the really hard nights if it means I get to share them with her.





*for simplicity, I refer to our first baby as a boy as that is what I thought we were having.