“Once upon a midnight dreary, while I pondered weak and weary...” ~ Edgar Allan Poe
Last night at 2am, or maybe it was 3am or 1am? I sat in the floor of the baby's room rocking her and singing lullabies through gritted teeth. My curly headed angel with the happiest smile was screaming as though her crib was a torture chamber. This has gone on every night for the past 3 weeks. I wonder if Old Poe ever spent time with a newborn because he sure nailed the feeling.
I checked her diaper, looked for new teeth, ran my hand over her sheets making sure there wasn't a lump, checked the room temperature, check for fever, gave a lotion rub, etc. I never can find what is causing this screaming, but still I check. I feel worn out, but checking? It makes me feel like I'm doing everything I can to ease her discomfort. I am weak and I am weary.
By the time the other girls get up for the day, I already feel stretched. A simple request for breakfast feels monumental. Being asked to sit and do crafts feels like an intrusion.
As I am sure, dear reader, that you must know by now...this week I go to Blissdom. I will not be here for the breakfast requests, craft times or bed times. There have only been two times since I gave birth to my first daughter that I have been gone and away from home responsibilities. Those two times were when I gave birth to the other girls. I know I will miss my girls and wonder if they are missing me, but I need this break. I need to refresh the woman who is behind the weary mother. I need to feel challenged and inspired by other women.
But if by chance you see me at Blissdom and I am curled on a park bench under the tropical foliage... bring me a pillow and don't wake me up.