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Ruby came home tonight after 3 days away. Often when she comes home I feel her disconnection and distraction and even anger towards me. Tonight, I wanted to nip that negativity immediately... but it's so hard to know how. So tonight I decided to keep constant touch/interaction with her. I held her the whole time we were up and about. I talked to her and asked her to look me in the eyes. It took some prompting, but she did. Phew. One hurdle down. Putting her clothes and overnight bag away, with her propped on my hip, I told her about my weekend of cleaning the car and visiting with friends. I asked her about hers. She didn't have much to say except that she ate cereal. She wasn't too stinky, so we left the bath for tonight and I put her in her jammies and let her help with her oils. I let her pick out a few books and we spent 45 minutes snuggled in her bed, with her head resting on my shoulder and my arm around her. I could feel her melt into me. When I told her it was time for lights out, I could feel her anxiety and twitchiness begin. She needed a drink. To potty. A snack. Finally, she asked to "wock" (rock). I didn't hesitate. I picked up her and her blanket and went to the rocking chair. With all the blinds closed and no noise but the white hum of the fan, we rocked. She laid against my chest with her head resting on my shoulder and I told her how happy I am that she is home. How much I missed her. How much I love her. I asked her if she was happy to be home. She nodded her head against my shoulder and whispered "Yes." I could feel her melt back into my arms. I could feel the tension leave her body and in my mind I did everything I could to absorb any and all of the yuck in head, heart, and soul. Her arms were wrapped around my neck and her hands were twisted in a cluster of my hair at the nape of my neck. When her breathing became heavy and her fingers stopped twitching, I knew she fell into a deep enough sleep to move her. I untangled her fingers from my hair and laid her back to rest in the crook of my arm. I stared at her face for what felt like infinity. I prayed.

Sometimes it feels to me that motherhood is more emotionally... I don't want to say draining (because it's not that negative; it can be at times, but it isn't always), but maybe expensive (?), than anything. As mothers, we give our time, our attention, our efforts, our skills, our money... but none of that even comes close to what I give my daughter of my heart. While Ruby was away, I spent my weekend cleaning, cooking, doing laundry, shopping, preparing, preparing, preparing. Prepping for the week ahead. Healthy food to help her grow big and strong. Nice, clean clothes for her to wear. Clean and fresh house to make her feel comfortable at home. Organizing her toys, books, bedroom. Anything. Everything. To make her safe and secure. But all of that pales to the time and energy I took in thinking about her. Praying for her. Hoping, thinking, planning. Every thought I had about Ruby the voice in the back of my head whispered, "God, please let her have a good day." "Please let her sleep well." "Please take care of her." Please, please, please...

There is a quote floating around that says something like "Perhaps my mother wasn't so tired all the time because of the physical. Maybe she was exhausted from so much feeling." It's true. It's so true. I give Ruby everything of me. Most of the time it doesn't feel like enough.

Tonight, it felt like enough.

It feels, at this point in our journey, that the only thing that has mattered, that does matter, that may ever matter, is that I love my daughter well.

Dear me

Dear 50-year old Heidi,

Tonight, Tuesday, July 8, 2014, Ruby came home after a 2 night stay away. She struggles with these changes often, as do you. Do you remember that? How you fought to stay busy to keep the hours from crawling by? How you tried not to scroll through the pictures of her on your phone too often because the lonesomeness would settle into your bones until you couldn't eat. Couldn't think. Couldn't sleep.

Well, she came home tonight and as always a few days from her, you found renewed patience and even greater adoration for her. After painting, a snack, and bath time, Ruby begged for a movie. Pooh was her movie of choice tonight, as it is every night for your 2.5 year old. Tonight, you just wanted to snuggle her close. You wanted to hear her voice and have her hear yours and talk. But nights like these, when she has been gone a few days are hard. She is often distant and disconnected. Tonight you needed to reconnect. You picked out a few books that we don't often read, because Ruby refused to do it as she was still hell-bent on watching Pooh. You gathered her water, her blanket, and books and crawled into her bed. She reluctantly joined you. We read Ferdinand tonight and for the first time she seemed very interested in this book. That made you happy as this is one of your favorites. We also read a book of nursery rhymes and finished off with "Eeyore, Be Happy!" So Ruby could get her Pooh fix.

As you read, you kept one eye on Ruby. You studied her profile. Her perfect, tiny nose and her full cheeks and the way her heavy eyelashes gently curl. Her tiny chin that looks so much like yours. You admired her shiny hair in braids and watched her hands twitch in her lap as she listened. As you read, a movie reel played in the back of your mind of the progression of bed-time routines over the 2.5 years that have lead up to this night. Rocking her and giving her a bottle with Susan Lee's voice trickling through the tiny, dark apartment -- wasn't that just yesterday? It sure feels like it... and then in the next moment, it feels like it was a million years ago. Oh, how my heart aches today--missing those baby moments, the snuggles, the whispers, and rocking in the dark. It became a physical ache tonight as you were reading to Ruby. Remembering...

After we were done with stories, you turned out the light and for the first time in weeks, Ruby wanted you to curl up with her until she fell asleep. You laid quietly and she turned and twisted and fidgeted and forever reached to run her fingers through your hair. That was her biggest issue: finding a comfortable enough position in which she could still reach your hair. It's always been soothing to her and I hope you remember that no matter how painful or annoying it could be, it bonded us like nothing else.

Tonight, you realized that not long from now, you will miss this with your whole heart. This curling up and sharing good books with your daughter. The dark, the quiet, the smell of oils on our skin. The singing, prayers. The comfort of routine. Tears form as I type this because a little part of me misses this right now. It's still happening, she hasn't outgrown this stage yet, and already you are missing it. Heidi, I hope you always remember how much you have adored being Ruby's mom. How much it has fulfilled you and given you so much joy. I think there will be difficult years ahead and probably times when you and Ruby don't like each other much or when things get so difficult that you don't know where to turn. I want you to remember these nights with Ruby, when she was small, and how you felt like you didn't need anything else in the world. How you felt so complete. I want you to remember the pride and laughter she gave you. The uncontainable joy... Remember, always, how blessed you are to have her in your life.

All my love and best,
Heidi
Age 32