Like Christmas Eve

I've never had problems sleeping before ... when given the chance, that is. That doesn't include those last few weeks of pregnancy or the first five months after they were born. Those days (weeks, months, etc.) were not up to me -- they were controlled exclusively by the babies' need to: a) be born, b) eat, or c) be with me. But now, other than those times when Lola wakes up in the middle of the night, I should be sleeping like, well, a baby. But I've had my first bout of self-induced insomnia. I really didn't remember what it was like, eyes wide open, thoughts swirling about, with no drifting off in sight. The only times I remember having that problem were Christmas Eves when I was young. The anxiousness, the excitement, the mystery -- I couldn't wait until morning to find out what had appeared under the tree. But it's nowhere near the holidays and that Christmas morning anticipation has long since gone, so I didn't know why this new sleeplessness was plaguing me. Until last night.

As I lay there employing every relaxation method I've ever read or been told about by my oh-so-tired-but-still-patient husband, I realized why my mind won't cooperate. Each time I tried to picture myself relaxing on a beach with the breeze and the sound of the waves lulling me to sleep, my mind drifted back to Locke and Lola, taking their excited, awkward steps toward me. Lola, smiling at me as she claps her hands to a song I'm singing. Locke, making new sounds as if he's preparing to say a first word. The proud faces of my two amazing babies learning something new every day. It's that same Christmas Eve excitement all over again. I can't wait until the next morning to see what they'll try to perfect or attempt.

I've heard it a million times, "they grow up so fast." And I always smiled and nodded in agreement. But now I understand. This is the time of development you can't imagine until you see it day by day. I'll never regret the choice I made to stay at home with Lola and Locke. I wouldn't have known what I'm missing. But I'm so glad I do now.