Forgive me if I ramble tonight. Mia went down like a dream for the first time in a long while, so Tom and I finally got a chance to open up that bottle of champagne that we wanted to consume on our anniversary. And I've gotta say, having spent over three years either breastfeeding or pregnant has definitely turned me into a huge lightweight when it comes to alcoholic beverages.
My ramblings are of the happy sort, however. Because I am now on day two of Multiple Mia Naps (in her crib and not on my chest) and it is so blessedly wonderful.
I almost feel guilty saying it. I do so love my cuddles with her. I do so wish to wring every single second I have out of this very brief, teeny-tiny stage she's in. However, the past few weeks have been rough. I haven't been able to keep up with housework, I've barely been able to move. I certainly haven't been able to eat in comfort or peace.
Most of all, however, I've missed my other babies, and I didn't even realize how much until now.
In the beginning, I had some sort of weird switch turned on, where my focus was zeroed in on The Newborn, and it took great mental effort to expand it outward. As time went on, my interest was more fairly applied, however Mia still demanded a great deal of my attention in an an urgent, immediate way. My more independent older children often had to wait, or consent to less than their fair share. I guess I've been mostly too busy to notice, because while I've felt a bit of guilt about it on some level, based on the knowledge that it was happening, it didn't sting me in the way that it does now, reflecting on how things have been.
Last night, I had the freedom of motion to take each older child in turn and spin them in circles in the air. Heavenly peals of laughter ensued.
Today, I had two hands to scoop up my little boy and shower his handsome face with kisses, for no reason at all. The more I did it, the more I realized just how much I had missed him.
This evening, when Abby's cries rang out from downstairs as I closed the door to my bedroom on Mia's last nap of the day, I was unburdened to rush to her aid, gather her in my arms and position her squarely in my lap for an uninterrupted, unshared session of comforting. It's incredible to me how well she still fits there.
Suddenly, as though the emotions were new (they are not, but have been sadly buried in all of the recent insanity), I am absolutely flooded with the intense love that I feel for all of my children. I am recommitted now to making sure that each of them gets some time each day to be reminded of it.
And I am wishing, not for the first time, that there were more than one of me to go around to do it.