TONIGHT...

One thing I miss about being at the hospital

(well I don't know if miss is the right word, 

but you get my gist)

is rocking and holding my baby girl.

We would rock for hours.

I would sing to her, 

rub her head,

rock her to sleep, and soothe her achy body.

Those are precious memories.

Time stood still in those moments.

There was no other distractions,

other then an occasional beep of the machines,

and vitals that needed to be done.  

We were alone, given the time to just be together.

It was sacred.

It was magical. 

I didn't feel like I needed to make dinner,

do dishes,

help with this, 

or get this done.

My baby girl needed me.  

Nothing else mattered.

We were separated from the busyness of the world 

and the responsibilites of normal life.  

A special blessings at a stressful time.

We bonded.

We connected.

And I have missed that.

Now that we haven't been inpatient at the hospital for a while, 

life has come back full force.

School,

church responsibilities,

cooking, 

cleaning,

baths,

taking care of four young children, 

being pregnant,

daily responsibilities,

family functions, and such.

All good and necessary things, but distractions from our quiet time together.

Sometimes I forget to slow down and let those things go

and focus on the best things in life, my children.

I miss that time we had together.

The time I was forced to take in a way, but so grateful for as I look back.

Tonight, my sweetie needed me.

I sat in her rocking chair in her room,

she climbed up on my lap.

""b" "b", she cried.  I knew what she wanted…her blankets.

So I scooped them up.

She laid her head into my chest,

ear over my beating heart, 

stretched out over my watermelon of a belly,

and relaxed.

And I sang her songs,

and I rubbed her head,

and I soothed her achy body.

I was supposed to be making dinner,

I was supposed to be calling the doctor to change an appointment, 

I was supposed to be doing something!

But I didn't care. 

This is what I needed and wanted to do.

Her eyes got heavy,

they closed, and her breathing slowed down.

She slept in my arms.

She was so perfect.

Short, straight spiky hair, an ashy color now instead of dark brown, 

a gift from the chemo, but still so beautiful.

Red lips and long eyelashes that have grown in beautifully.

Dressed in her favorite Minnie sweater and pink pants with little bows.

So her.  

"Pretty" as she loves to say.  

And the best part is that

her door was open a crack,

and I could hear laughing coming from the living room.

Wrestling, scrambling, a couple of bangs.

Her brothers were alive and well. 

We were home.  

It wasn't the hum of machines we could hear, but the rest of our loved ones around us.

We are truly blessed. 

This is what she needed today.

This is what I needed today. 

A rock and a snuggle in our chair.

A reminder that life is as simple and sweet as we choose it to be.

Get feeling better, baby girl.  

Mommy loves you.