Thursday evening found me alone with Summer and Anders. No “big” kids. No Mike. There was a lot to be done and a very hungry baby to be fed.
For a minute I panicked.
"I’d forgotten,” I thought to myself. “I can do this baby thing. It’s just work. It just requires working harder. . . . Sometimes one-handed.”
And often that is it – just work; working harder (and with only one hand if necessary).
But then . . . yesterday and today, Summer has been so unhappy with life. Uncomfortable and sad. Needy and never long for sleep.
And less work, I’m afraid, is a much bigger challenge for me.
It is much easier for me to simply “gird up my loins” (a little Bible reference for you there) and work harder – do what needs getting done. I struggle much more when life calls for me to sit still and just be; when I am asked to step back and let things unfurl about me a bit.
But, my dear, sweet Summer. She’s only been here – on this earth, with this body – for two and a half weeks. I have been ready for things to be back to normal; ready to do all of the things we do around here. But Summer, . . . she doesn’t even know what our normal is. She just knows . . . she’s not quite ready for it. She needs a little longer to be allowed to eat when she wants to eat and to sleep and wake – with no rhyme or reason – securely snuggled in my arms.
She needs me to let things be not normal for a little longer.