I rocked Harper to sleep the other night.
I can’t remember the last time I did.
My girls are lovely little sleepers + I've always catered to a healthy sleep schedule.
{ dominant sleep gene from this girl, no doubt in my mind. does that even exist? }
So. We’re rocking. She’s drowsy. I’m thinking.
A few days before, on Harper’s birthday, I was having a conversation with a friend.
I ended up reflecting on the events surrounding her original birthday.
The day she entered this world.
Of course there was excitement + anticipation. But. A few hours into labor, I recall wondering how on earth I could have ever forgotten that pain. And why am I doing it again.
But, here I was … Again.
I also sharply remember { in desperation } wanting to quit.
I wanted it over.
I wanted the pain to end.
But mostly, I just wanted to stop.
{ can i get an "Amen", girls!? }
Huge problem with that.
I was stuck.
There was only one way for it to end: Through the pain.
{{ And here we go. Truths are transferrable, parallels are everywhere. }}
During these past 2.5 years, I’ve been working through a painful reality in my life.
A place I had never pictured myself, I literally had the rug ripped out from my comfortable + content little life.
Steeped in the newness of the imposing reality, there were moments when I wanted to give up. I wanted to pull the covers over my head + sleep the days away. I wanted to yank the rip-cord and have the parachute open and then float dreamingly down to a normal place of contentment again.
Riiiiiight.
Sorta like bailing on labor + delivery; THAT was simply not an option.
{ that's the thing about pain. }
I was alone with my thoughts on my sweet Harper’s birthday evening.
That night, I toasted to the pain.
I toasted the pain, because I’m starting to see that ...
It is actually the pain that ultimately ushers in the
{ really good stuff }
And i know it's coming.
xo.
