Laboring with my child

I haven't been here in awhile. A very long while. September it seems. And funny enough, the title of my last blog post was "Silence is an interesting thing." Well, boy have I been silent. At least on the interwebs. I make no promises as to whether this will become a regular thing again--oh how I'd like for it to! But much gets in the way.

I decided to read Ann Voskamp's blog this morning before reading my Bible. I've read most of her book (darn those last few pages!), and I really enjoy her writing style as well as pretty much everything else I know of her. I'm sure she would find it funny if I told her I would really love to have her life. Anyway, all that to say, I'd like to be better about reading her blog and writing down my daily gifts. I find her words challenging. Ultimately, I'd like for my words to be challenging. But I think I have some things to walk through and hopefully overcome before that might happen.

I read these words in her post today, and I immediately thought of what happened this morning.

Why does no one tell you that once you start labor over a child, you'll never stop, and you always must remember to keep breathing?

Voskamp is what I would call a "seasoned mother," and while I'm sure this statement will ring true for the remainder of my child-raising years in more harrowing ways as Silas grows up and hopefully more children come along, it reminded me of last night/this morning with our little man who is only eight months into his life.

Normally we put Silas down around 6:30 p.m., and he wakes up around 6 a.m. Every so often we have a week where he decides 5 a.m. or thereabouts is better for him. Then we play the exhausting game of making him wait until 6. Exhausting because mommy can't go back to sleep while he determines if he can.

Once your child sleeps through the night you just sort of expect he'll continue to do so, and you feel terribly inconvenienced when he doesn't.

Last night he woke up at 10 and wouldn't be consoled by either parent or his monkey that plays soft music. I finally fed him in the hopes he would fall back asleep.

Since he can go 12 hours without eating, one would think he would be completely fine until at least 6 a.m. if not later. Apparently not. The cries began at 5 a.m. and didn't stop until close to 6. He finally went back to sleep just before I was going to rescue him, and he slept until after 7.

I'll admit I was terribly upset.

"Just make him go back to sleep, Lord!" I kept crying in my head. Mainly because I wanted to go back to sleep.

I definitely felt inconvenienced, but Voskamp's words reminded me this morning that things like this will continue to happen as long as I am around to be a mom. I will continue to labor over Silas--whether that be in his sleep schedule or something more major I don't want to ponder--for many more seasons.

I can't be inconvenienced because he is my child, given to me by God to care for as long as I am around to do so. I'll try to remember this and keep breathing.