thank you Poppy

I was sitting down to write about how difficult evenings have been-
how getting Lane down has become a fight, how he kicks his legs wildly in his crib and tries to roll over and pull up on the bars and tap his reflection in the mirror.

I was sitting down to write that it's been taking hours of hushing, or of crying, or of rocking and nursing and how, by the end of it all, I'm too exhausted to do anything with myself even if it's only 9pm.  I'm too exhausted even to shower.

I was about to write all of this with total frustration and seriousness, putting all of my sore back muscles into it when I came across this website from another blog I frequent.

Oh my.
How I love you Lane.

It's hard to remember already, ALREADY, when I have these kinds of nighttime struggles that you are just so little and you won't be for long.

Tomorrow you will already be older, and so will I.
And even when we are all young, we aren't permanent.
When you wake up in an hour, as you've been doing lately, I will give you kisses instead of frustrated sighs.

We are all hanging on by the threads of our breath.


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