Last night I woke up 4-5 times in the middle of the night. Each time I was positive that I heard someone crying “Mom” from their bed.
I would get up and tiptoe into the hallway between Jackson and Abby’s room and wait. I’d hold my breath and strain to hear. But it stayed quiet. Then I’d do that weird, soft hop/dance from one foot to the other around the squeaky floorboards in the hall back to the quiet of my room.
That’s the thing you don’t fully understand until you’re living on four hours a day of broken sleep, googling that random episode of Oprah from forever ago with the baby cry expert. Moms are always on call, even in their dreams. (You know I’m not the only one.)
Just to prove how random life becomes once you’re a mom, here’s a list of some of the weird things I have had to Google this week:
- “butt rash after pottytraining?”
- “Rent princess sofia hampton roads”
- “monkey hat dog costumes”
- “Pediatrics at Oyster Point”
- “Toddler constipation home remedies”
Right now, as I’m writing this, I’m thinking: what should I pack for the kids for lunch tomorrow, don’t forget to pack Jackson’s folder, I hope Abby sleeps well, what time should we wake up tomorrow, should I hold a family prayer on Saturday night before we leave for Boston Sunday, should it be Thursday since Jackson’s checkup is Friday, when should I tell Jackson he has to see Dr. Lowe, I wish I’d hugged him longer, he’s been such a butthead lately, I wished I’d hugged Abby longer, did we feed the dogs?
It’s no wonder my vocabulary is decreasing. My worry is taking up valuable real estate in my head. I couldn’t even remember the word shovel the other day. “You know…that big spoon you use in the dirt…”
With Jackson’s 6-month oncology check-up on Friday and Abby’s potential surgery next week in Boston, you can imagine why even my dreams don’t take a break.
I’ve had plenty of big stuff to worry about with my kids. But practice hasn’t made me any better. I wish I had better advice to give when it comes to worry; I just don’t have the answers on this one. When there’s something up with my kids, there’s not much else I can think of. I want to fix it. Make it better. I’m their Mom and that’s my job.
Times like these are usually when I find myself praying to get the tightness in my chest to subside or back to sleep at night. It makes me realize how small I am. I’m not the one with all the answers. The next week or two seems like a dark hallway full of hidden, squeaky floorboards. I can’t know where they’re all going to be.
But God knows. Thank God that God knows. And that thought is always what helps me take a deep breath…and that first step forward.