To be fair, Daniel has ordinarily (as in, for the previous 3 1/2 months of his life) been a pretty good sleeper. A gloriously good sleeper. But for the last two weeks, our little guy has been doing a great deal of eating and growing without a whole lot of sleeping. I feel like he learns something new everyday. He’s smiling all the time, giggling, talking to us with sweet little coos and “guuuh” sounds, playing with his toys and, to my dismay, rolling over. A LOT.
He started this flipping over business at about 2-3 weeks in protest of tummy time. Then, thankfully, he took a few months hiatus. He’s really not into being swaddled, but he has loved sleeping on his tummy. Until, of course, he rolls himself over. Repeatedly. All night. At which point he becomes quite upset and commences screaming until I soothe him back to his tummy again. And repeat. Did I say all night?
At least it feels that way.
After three great I-think-we’re-out-of-the-woods nights, last night was rough. Since John was flying early this morning, we waged this sleep battle in Daniel’s room. Sleep 10-20 minutes, flip over, get angry. And not a cry for 10-15 minutes sort of angry- this kid has serious stamina. I nursed him, burped him, changed him, cuddled him, sang to him, rocked him, prayed over him. Tried to remember that this is temporary and I’m not actually going to be exhausted for the rest of my life forever and ever…
It was about 3 AM when I happened to open the curtains in his nursery to discover the breathtaking surprise of snow. Already, everything in sight was blanketed in white with large, sparkling flakes glistening in the dim light of the street lamp. I wept for the beauty of it. Tired as I was, it felt like this sight was somehow meant just for me, God’s gift to my weary, frustrated soul. Baby in my arms, we swayed back and forth in the window watching the snow, talking to God. Peace. Stillness. Quiet.