4 am

It is 4:22 am.  Lillie is awake for the fourth time since she feel asleep at 9:20 last night.  Each time she wakes I walk into her room, quietly whisper lay down baby and cover her back up.  She settles.

This started when we moved to the new house.  It has happened before, at various times in her little life.

After we moved, I said that I would give her a week to adjust.

Then, after a week in the new house we all got pink eye - so I gave her the grace of another week.

This week she had a fever of 102.7 for a couple days - and her Daddy is gone.

So every few hours in the middle of the night I hear screaming.  Always calling for her Daddy.  Brad is her safe place.  And now as I walk into her room, she is angry that it is my face, not Brad's, that is there to offer comfort.

Finally she settles and I wander back to bed, knowing I have to get up at 5:15.  So I lay awake wondering, worrying...

Was this move all a big mistake?  Oh gosh, our family has had so many mistakes lately.

Everything just seems suddenly much more complicated.  I'm quickly overwhelmed in this house - maybe by this house.  Maybe it is that I haven't slept through the night since we moved.

Everything is so much harder when you don't sleep...  

As I sat at the kitchen table last night - the very same table that I ate at my entire childhood - I looked at the same loving, reassuring face that I have run to, the face that has always been there.  The one who always speaks truth into me.

And she says lovingly, you know women do this every week.

At 4:22 this morning I lay awake and think, yes, I know women do this every week.  I know Daddys travel away every week.  Wives make it to work, take care of two children and manage to hold life together.  Kids get sick every week.  People commute every week.  Dinners still get made, baths are still taken.  Laughter is still had.

And most people don't have the consistent help that I do.  Most people don't have a selfless Mimi who always comes with a happy heart.

Families manage this alone every week.  This is not unique to me or to our family.

My uncle stopped by our house this weekend for a hot minute.  My aunt and uncle have both always worked.  As he left, he looked Brad and I in the face and said, "I remember this stage of life - you just have to hold your breath until the weekend."

As the clock read 5 this morning, I let me feet hit the floor.  I'm thankful for all the help I've received and I know that it will once again get easier to hold my breathe.