A Toast.

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.