A Letter To My Sleeping Toddler

My sweet sweet Riley.

Your sleeping self conjures up nothing but maternal love within me.  Well, maybe also a big sigh of relief, but mostly an overwhelming, break-me-in-two-if-I-think-about-it, deep deep love for you.  Your little curled and twisty self, contorted beyond what my mind can comprehend as a viable option for sleeping, reminds me of all of the best things about you without any of the challenging parts.  

See?
Our days ARE fun!
Its just, when you're sleeping, you can't get any more toys out... :)

Our days are good and full and fun and I don't mean to sound as though I'm wishing them away.  I don't.  But when you're sleeping, the weight of my responsibility to you nearly takes my breath away.  It could be that you're so innocent there, so dependent and so confident in your daddy & I, I'm not sure.  I do know, looking at you there dreaming and snoring slightly, that we are going to fail you.

I hate that.

If I had my way with it, you'd never hear the glass break, never see the picture-perfect crumble.  We'd never disappoint you, let alone make you sad or less-than-pleased with us.  I can completely understand the parents who bend rules and move mountains to make sure their precious babe is never sad.  There's a part of me that wants that for you.

But God gave you a human Mama, and I've already failed you.  Heck, you weren't even 4 mo. old when I caught your arm in your zipper and caused that little blood blister.  It was almost a year and a half ago, and I still remember that sick feeling that comes when you cause your baby's pain.  Since then, I've failed you in bigger and smaller ways, and it'll continue in this vein, no matter how much I try to do anything but that.

I am trying not to hate these failures.  There is a reason that I can't make your days perfect.  I know that, in part because I will never be perfect, you're going to see God even more clearly.  When I mess up and have to ask your forgiveness, you'll see that everyone requires absolution from God.  When I somehow, in some way, break a small part of your heart (a phrase that it is killing me to write), you'll learn that anyone can let you down, but you've got a friend who sticks closer than a brother.  

If I could make your days perfect, dear one, you'd never have any reason to seek God.  You'd never know that you have a need, and so you'd never find the cure.  And that would be the worst.  As much as it tears me apart and makes me tear up (no lie, this is hard to write!), you need to feel the sting of failure, the pain of a broken heart, the disappointment of your Mama & Daddy coming up short.  I don't wish the hurt for you, but I would hate to see you go without the wisdom and insight that those experiences will bring you.  

All of these feelings, they hit me nearly every night when I check in on you before heading to bed myself.  You snooze and turn over, and my mind flashes through all of the things yet to come, the good and the bad.  You've got so much in front of you, and I hope that it is mostly full of joy and love and good times.  And when the hard and the bad comes, I hope you learn those lessons quickly.  And when they're my fault, I hope you're especially skilled at forgiveness.

You've captured my heart, you sleeping girl.  This love that breaks me apart, it fills me up too.  You being here, with us, given to us, is refining me, just as it will refine you.  We'll learn together through our days and I'll watch you sleep at night and feel all of these feelings.  The fact that someday you may do the same with your someday daughter, well, I can't even go there, I'm already too much of a mess.

Sweet dreams my girl.  Can't wait to hang out with you tomorrow!

<3 M.