And my fussy baby.

Lately, our Monkey Muffin has gotten into a kick of becoming straight as a board, contorting his little face, and loudly crying screaming protesting against the world in general, right around seven o'clock in the evening until close to one o'clock in the morning, with a few wee nursing breaks inbetween.
Just the sort of nights we first-time mamas think of as we hit the snooze button during our pregnancies.

Well, as I was fighting back the sleepy tears and rocking my nearly hoarse Muffin, I thought back to a time in the hospital, just a few weeks ago. Ethan was just a few days old and the NICU staff had allowed me to start breastfeeding him. We were both snuggled in the hospital glider, he had just finished a great session and was sawing logs on my shoulder, his fuzzy, wee arms close to mine and the slightest bit of baby drool was making its way down my neck; I could breath in the sweet baby scent from his softy, downy head and for a few moments, I didn't hear the continuous beeping, flashing, buzzing from the cold monitors that filled most of the room, I ached. Ached to at last take him home, to hold my baby sans wires, lines, and beeping monitors; I just wanted to be able to cuddle him without a time limit or nurse poking her head in the door. I just wanted to be a mama to my baby.

And now I am. Now we are.
Now he's well and home and I don't have to let him go or check to see if all of his lines are connected.
I don't have to march to another persons schedule or leave whenever visiting hours are over.
David and I get to be his parents and cuddle him as long as we like. We also get to rock him during the wee hours of the morning, passing him back and forth like a hot potato, until finally he falls asleep in our arms. It's all a part of the package and a part of what it means to be Daddy and Mama to a fussy three-week old Muffin.

Which is why I really am thankful for the tear-brimmed nights when I just want this baby to fall asleep. (or at least for one of us to fall asleep) Because I remember what it was like to have to leave him at the hospital and the sleepless nights are part of bringing him home. 

Dear Ethan Monkey Muffin Santiago

Last night you had your first all nighter. You had a fresh nappy, you had been burped, massaged, gently rocked, and I was trying to feed you yet you were inconsolable. It was a time when I had exhausted my resources and tried all of my tricks but I didn't know what to do. You were crying, I still didn't know how to calm you, and poor Daddy was just trying to get some sleep. Honestly, my next step was to strap us both in the car and go for a drive until you gave up the ghost.
Blasted reflux.

In the end, we moved to the living room and I rocked you in my arms (tiger style) until you tearfully fell asleep. We finally were able to sachet back to our cozy bed and slept. Quite soundly, in God's sweet mercy.

And I thought and thanked God for you because with all of your reflux and salty tears, you are a gift. We prayed for you, dreamed about you, and I smiled each time I felt you move; and now you're here! I was reminded recently how not every Mama gets to hold her baby or kiss their sweet cheeks, but in God's perfect timing and plan, I'm able to hold and kiss you; it's all counted as a gift.
So I'm thankful.
Thankful to hear your grunts, wipe your bum, clip your nails, and feel your tiny hand against my chest.
On the flip side, I remember that when God proclaimed children to be a blessing, He knew that you'd have reflux, would cry when I take a shower, and He knew you would keep me up at all hours. Those things are also part of the gift.
So I'm thankful. 
Thankful that I was able to carry you around for thirty-nine weeks and feel every hiccup; I was (barely!) able to walk through Labour and push out all 7.3 lbs/20.5 inches of you. In the nicu I was able to nurse you and hold your tiny body. Since bringing you home, I get to rock you to sleep and change your nappies; I get to hear you snort while you nurse and feel your long baby fingers against me. And yes, I also get to have sleepless nights and wonder if I'm doing this Mothering thing well at all.

I rather believe that this is part of it all; a new way to Hold Fast to the Father and to bring glory to Him with our Living Sacrifices, with our lives.

Dear Daddy

Dear Daddy,

So, I'm nine months and sixteen days old now. Thanks for showing me how to snuggle under the covers and for keeping me toasty warm while Mum takes a shower; I'm glad you don't mind my morning breath. Thanks also for styling my mohawk hair in the morning; Mum usually forgets, it's like she's busy or something. Weird.
We're learning to sleep through the night and you're doing a great job at staying asleep while I toss and turn in bed; I know that I talk in my sleep quite a bit.
You're a great Dad and I can't wait for more "firsts" with you (just be sure to keep your mouth closed when you hold me up in the air).

I love you,
Ethan Monkey Muffin Santiago Ansley