Both the biggest challenge and the biggest reward of my life is to look for God in it. Here are some of the things that fill my days and nights: cyclical chores and tasks, folding still-tiny onesies and then cargo pants with a new knee-hole each week, an alarm clock that goes off at six am or two pm depending on the day, a fan in a cool room where I sit and blink it all away. I move through some days smack full of wonder. I cannot believe their eyelashes, his steadfast way with them, the way I'm so happy for them to have such a father, the overwhelming beauty of upturned dirt and baby green sprouting.
Spring always does this to me, even though this year I was starting to wonder if it would happen, after months of wind and tired. Some nights, I drive off to the hospital and make more work for myself, by choice, something I can't really explain. I hold hands and coach breathing and try to keep up: two months ago I was a snail and now I'm something like a marching ant. Cheetah is the goal, I'm pretty sure. But we're getting there. It's a dream, but it's filled with startling reality; nothing and yet everything to get sentimental about. Babies are born, and maybe I don't cry each time anymore but when a new mother wanted a picture with me it made my week.
What made my week this week: my baby girl waved and smiled at me during therapy on Monday. It just about did me in. I have memories inscribed in me of the sweet times I've spent with each of my babies, just the two of us. Now it's our turn, she and I, to sit in the grass together and speak our own little language. Something clicks and you realize how precious it all is.
I might be embarrassed about feeling so much, if it wasn't the thing that has saved me and keeps doing so.