Last night, as has been the case many nights this Spring/Summer, we had a violent thunderstorm. I lost count of the number of nights filled with torrential downpours and constant thunder, but at least 5 of them have had 30-60 minutes of 60mph winds and those lightning-thunder combos that light up the sky for several seconds and then shake your house. I don't know about other people's kids, but my two-year-olds are not fans. Especially Avery.
Because there are two of them and one of me, sometimes comforting them at the same time across a large room is difficult. Thankfully, Elise gets stirred a little bit and cries out some, but mostly sleeps. She really is her daddy's girl. Poor Avery, though, sometimes turns white(r than she already is) as a ghost and can't recover unless in her mama's arms. This is tiring, but if you're a mother you know it's not so bad for a while.
One night a while ago, when she was beyond hysterical, she ended up in my bed. This NEVER happens, because my girls are terrible at sleeping in our bed. That night though, since she was there due to fear and not boredom (or manipulation), she fell right to sleep. When the scariest part of the storms ended, I moved her back in her bed and she was fine.
Last night, she woke once again terror-striken. As soon as I got to her half of the room she was in my arms, her arms firmly around my neck, half asleep but still crying out, "Mama white bed?" So off we went, since it went so well the first time and allowed for a bit more sleep for both of us.
Not so this time around. Ultimately, Elise ended up in the bed too, because she had a bit harder time (and because her intermittent crying kept Avery awake and concerned). She fell right to sleep but Miss Avery fought mama and ended up just staying awake, for the most part, for that hour and a half or so.
But, despite being lengthy already, that isn't what this blog entry is about. No, it is about the first few minutes we were all three in the bed together, when Avery was still half-asleep and not fighting me.
As I lay there watching them sleep, in those few brief moments, I had such a special time. (This was before the long, tiring rest of the night). As Elise was sleeping, sometimes Avery would put her arm near her, or they would share the one blankie that had made it into the bed. Each time there was some sort of interaction, Elise - asleep, remember - would get the sweetest, softest little smile. Avery, in those few moments before she was instead focused on waking her up and being ornery (you know, while she was still sleeping), wanted to cuddle next to Sissy. And I couldn't help but be whisked back to 2 years ago, when those sweet newborns wanted nothing more than to cuddle up next to one another.
For a few moments, they even looked like those tiny babies I once had. Stretching, wiggling near one another (and yet staying close to the warmth and comfort of mama). We never co-slept (so not a discussion for this post! ;)) but you know I still watched them sleep like this so many times. I sort of missed it.
And yet, even then, I wasn't sad. I was thankful for that little glimpse into the past. Dare I say it, thankful for all the time we have had just the three of us? No, not really. Not at all, actually. Being the wife of a resident who is gone 27 out of 30 days, 80+ hours a week (not helped by the long commute), all hours of the day and night, has - because there is no way to put it - sucked. Perhaps at times it has been worse than being the resident, because at least then the job ends at work. For a few hours anyway. No, as the resident's wife, the sleepless nights and pretending to be a single parent for months at a time don't go away even when the resident is home.
And yet, the last two years have been so special. I won't dare go so far as to suggest they would have been less special without residency - that is just lunacy. Our lives as a family of four who actually get to spend some time together on a regular basis begins on Thursday, and we DESPERATELY need it. I desperately need it. But in spite of this unconventional set up we've had for the first 2 years of the girls' lives - beginning at about day 4 of life, when we came home from the hospital and Kyle went back to the grind - we've created some spectacular memories that I hope won't fade. Or fade anymore than they have. I hate that, on a regular basis, I don't remember this stuff... but I'm thankful for the occasional, crystal-clear reminder.
And I'm still really thankful it all changes in just a few short days.
