On Monday night I walked the lonely path of a dark corridor over and over with a hurting infant in my arms. My march endured for hours. I only found rest when I stopped to nurse. The baby would drift off, eyelids fluttering, but if I made any attempt to put her down, she’d writhe in pain and begin to cry again. Her cries came from so deep inside of her it made me hurt, so I’d scoop her into my arms again and resume my nocturnal trek.
When it was well past 1 a.m., I was numb with exhaustion. That’s when I sprung a leak, and my own crying began. I asked for God’s help. I begged him to please, please let me sleep. I even asked him to give me a sign that he loved me and was with me.
I walked in the darkness, hoping winged angels might swoop down and say something like, “Be not afraid.”
But there were no signs or wonders. Just me and a baby who would not sleep.
I woke up around 7 a.m. after having slept fitfully since a 4 a.m. feeding, and I felt more than a crushing lethargy. I was angry. I felt like God wasn’t upholding his end of the bargain. Why were my prayers not answered? If God wanted me to follow his will for me and fulfill my duties as a wife and a mom, why couldn’t he at least give me more than four hours of fragmented sleep? Why did he only send his Mother to speak to children in Fatima? Where was my burning bush? Why did prayer feel more like spouting off words into a vacuum than sharing a two-way conversation with someone who supposedly knew me and loved me? And if God knows me so well, I thought, can’t he see that I’m reaching my breaking point?
I dragged myself out of bed and I went downstairs with a baby (who was now sleeping peacefully) in my arms and two hungry little ones treading close behind. I served my older girls breakfast and held the baby close. I watched her stomach rise and fall gently and that’s when I started to cry again, silent tears trailing down my face.
“God, help me,” I whispered in my heart.
And there it was: My lightening bolt, an answer to my prayer. My 4-year-old looked into my weepy eyes and began to softly sing, “The light of Christ comes shining through, and I’m so blessed to be with you.”
And I smiled through my tears, realizing I’d been looking in all the wrong places for answers to my prayer. Rather than searching the heavens for a sign, I only have to look around my own world to find God. I do not have to wait for a thundering voice from above. Instead, God may choose to speak through the voice of an earthly angel, through the sweet singing of my child. It’s up to me to listen, to open my heart and to accept the sound.
You poor girl, I wish I could help you. When I was going through the same thing, I had a friend who would come over every few days and hold the baby just so I could sleep for an hour or two. There is nothing worse than sleep deprivation…..
Beautiful Kate–an absolutely beautiful story
Amen, sister, and Amen. I feel your pain, and yet know the presence of the Creator has not left either one of us. The other night as I was hitting a breaking point, this verse played through my head all night long, with the hourly feedings, “Come to me, all you who are weary and burdened, and I will give you rest.” I am praying that your angel feels better soon and that your body will be rested and revived even in the few hours of sleep there might be. Hang in there sister!
Thank you for this post. It is so beautifully and honestly written, and I needed it today. I’ll pray that the baby feels better soon and gives you some rest.
What a beautiful story. Thanks for sharing!
I teared up when you wrote about your little girl singing to you, what great witnesses children can be. Hang in there!
Oh Kate, this is lovely, but it breaks my heart to know you’re struggling so! I will pray for you today, my friend, in a special way!
Oh…those days of sleeplessness. Those midnight hours are so difficult, especially when demand-feeding. My prayers are with you.
That’s a beautiful ending, Kate. We really don’t have to look much farther than our home, do we?
I read above that Mary was diagnosed with reflux. My two boys had that also. It’s gut wrenching to watch them suffer. The first responded well to medicine, the second didn’t so he went off of it and slept (when/if he slept) in his carseat for six months! *sigh*
I’ll say prayers for some relief for you! +
I meant to post on this….such a beautiful, heartbreaking, real, and inspiring story of motherhood. I’m glad yo captured it. You are doing such a GREAT job. Your spirit, combined with the Holy Spirit, is doing so much right in your family. Remember that, even in the exhausting times.
I’m praying for you, and thank you for your honesty and inspiration. We mothers CAN do this…thanks for reminding us what to cling to.
Oh Kate… reflux is awful. Isabella had it, and I remember that helpless feeling, breaking down as she cried for hours. It is a very difficult thing to experience together.
Thank God for your sweet girl, able to sing to you.
these are the hardest days. may God continue to grant you all the grace you need.
Praying for you!