Thursday, March 25, 2010


Marisa is teething.  Simply a fact.  Those bottom two year molars keep rising up and going down, rising up and going down.  I am much quicker to medicate her than I was Matthew.  With Matthew, we all just suffered because I did not want to medicate, I did not want to put too much into his little body.  It is not that I care less about Marisa but it makes us all happier to have some Tylenol and gum rub relief.  Those molars take forever to come in too.  Living for months and months with unhappiness seems insane now.  But even with some medication or gum rub she still wants to be held mostly by me and in the middle of the night.  And her routine gets out of whack. 

She pooped at 2:40am the other night, something she rarely does and has only done when she is in the midst of a massive teething episode.  When Matthew would do this, I used to be able to perfectly clean Matthew's bottom in the pitch black of the night when he would get like this.  He would fall back to sleep on the change table I was THAT stealth.  But I must be getting old or losing my touch. I had to turn on a light to see what I was doing.  And getting up even once in the night just about sends me over the edge.  These weeks when she is teething she is up in the night or up early for the day.  I want to be bothered by this in some way and yet I know this will not last forever. 

This morning when I heard her calling "Momma MOOOOOMA MOM" in the dark gray morning I hoped she was not up for the day.  5:17 am said the red numbers on the clock.  I went into her.  Found her pacifier.  Checked her diaper. Grabbed her yellow blanket.  Snuggled up and let her nurse.  One of two times a day that we do nurse.  She finished and nestled up close to me, sort of like she used to when she was just a wee baby.  She settled down in my arms to sleep, I could feel the buzz of energy drifting away from her into sleep.  I must have drifted off when I heard the pacifier fall to the ground. 

I looked down at her sleeping face, her posture, her little body curled in toward me.  So like she used to be but not.  Her little fist was up near her face and her lips pouched out.  The weight in my arms was so different from that baby that used to be and yet she is still my wee baby.  I savored the moment even though I wanted to crawl back into bed.  Drinking in how she looks now, knowing these moments of snuggling the wee hours of the night/morning are limited.  Grateful for those limits and yet I thought fleetingly how much longer will she fit in the crooks of my arms?  Not much longer and so it felt okay to savor this dawn waking.  To know I could be there for her when she needed me, to help soothe away the pain.  

Even though I am slightly tired this morning, I sit here and I smile holding on to that pre dawn moment with all I have for it will all pass too quickly.
Post a Comment