Wednesday, February 13, 2008

Write-it-Out Wednesday

Inspiration for today: "Draw on your own experiences."
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The wail started softly, unnoticed by Kristin. Yet, within a short 15 seconds, the velocity built to an ear piercing screech, much like a fire engine’s siren. Kristin pulled her pillow over her head and moaned. Not again! The baby was just up and nursed an hour and a half ago. She could feel the heat of anger building up inside her chest. Why did she have to sacrifice her sleep? Why did she have to nurse the baby, walk the baby, soothe the baby? Why? Why? Why? Did the simple word “mother” automatically mean that she would be doomed to sacrificing her sleep, her time, her emotions, her life??

She pulled her head out from under her false sound barrier and looked at her snoring husband. It wasn’t fair! John could sleep through anything. ANYTHING!! For a second, she entertained the thought of waking him and pleading that he sooth the baby back to sleep. But she sighed and shook her head. No. That wouldn’t work and she knew it. It wasn’t that he wouldn’t be willing. He had said many times that he wouldn’t mind getting up with the baby. But she knew he would go into the nursery, pick up the screeching baby and that screech would turn into horrific angry baby cries, because Mommy hadn’t been the one to pick him up. For 30 minutes or more, the angry cries would continue. Kristin would toss in bed, throw the pillow over her head, cry, and moan, until finally John would come into the room and say, “I’m sorry, Honey. He just won’t stop. Would nursing him help?”

Sighing again, she angrily threw her legs over the side of the bed. “I need sleep!!” she whispered to herself. She hesitated at the nursery door and took a deep breath. Slowly, she let it out, hoping it would expel the anger along with it. She walked to the crib and looked down at her son. He was so little. So helpless. SO NOISY! “I must look like that to God when He looks down from heaven on me,” she thought.

As she scooped her baby up into her arms, his screeching cries turned into mere whimpering sobs. He felt his mother. He was safe. And he was loved. “Father,” Kristin prayed. “I am little and I am helpless. My heart is crying loudly for you. Hold me close and quiet my soul.”
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Now, it's your turn! Just sign your Johnny Hancock to Mr. Linky down below and leave the link to your very own Write-it-Out Wednesday blog post.

1 comment:

Missy @ It's Almost Naptime said...

awww! That did get me teary.

And brought back some BAD MEMORIES!! :)