Sleep + True Rest

I was always that kid who loved going to bed early. My parents would wonder where I was around 8pm and then realize I put myself to bed. Even in college, the time for newfound independence with no curfew and pulling all-nighters before a big final--nope. Not me. Not once. Ever. It just didn't have any allure to me. I liked my 8 hours of sleep. I loved getting up early. I loved sticking to routines. 

Four years ago when I stared down at those two pink lines my mind swirled with all of the excitement + fears that come with being a new parent. One of the prominent thoughts was...but how will I handle being up at night and not getting sleep? Can I do this? I wouldn't really know, until I was in it. 

Last night I climbed in bed at 9:15pm, ready to read a little more of Becoming before falling asleep. At 9:30pm as my eyes were heavy and sleep was beckoning, I heard Selah stir from the foot of our bed. She has a tiny baby cold and nothing breaks your heart like a baby congested + coughing. I brought her from her crib to our bed and I thought: "this king bed was made for such a time as this." I pull her in close to nurse, praying her cold clears up and she's able to sleep tonight. 

It's 10pm and baby girl is clearly not tired. She just thought that was a nice little nap and snack, and now she's ready to play. It's Jeffrey's shift--this is unspoken three kids in. He puts his shirt back on and says sweetly "Come on baby girl. Let's let mommy get some rest." As he closes the door to head to the living room I'm grateful for him, and for our bed and sleep. 


It's 12:30am and I hear someone crying. I listen. It's Jude. He's been cutting some teeth the past few weeks, poor baby. I walk to his room and find him laying by the door. I lay him back in his crib but he only cries harder.  "I want to hold you" he cries. So I rock him in the gray chair until he calms down and his breathing slows. As I hold him and scratch his back I think about how he's going to be a grown man one day and it makes me smile. I've been seeing these little glimpses of "grown up Jude" lately and I love it. I pray over his life and I kiss his head knowing that these moments of rocking him are probably numbered now. 

I climb back in bed, it's 1:30am now. It takes awhile for my brain to slow but eventually I fall back asleep. 

My eyes open as I hear Elle saying "I have to go potttty!" from down the hall. It's early. Like the sun won't be up for a few more hours early. I take her to the bathroom and then walk her back to bed, reminding her that it's not light out yet, and she needs to stay in bed. I give her a few books and turn her lights on low, knowing she won't fall back asleep. She's a morning person, like her mama is. (...was? I'm not too sure anymore.)

I go back to our room to Se, who's ready to nurse again. I snuggle her warm little body in bed for awhile, wondering what today will look like, if coffee will help. 

As I lay in bed I think back to being a kid, to being in college, to life before kids when I used to be in more control. When I used to feel "well rested". My mind wanders to what true rest even looks like in this stage. 

The reality of life is I'm not in control of my nights anymore (or the days for that matter). I know I can't cling to my sleep patterns for rest. It's just not an option. I have to find my rest in Him, no matter what my night looked like. 
There are many days I wake up after nights like last night and I think: "Jesus if you don't show up today, this is going to be ugly." I'm operating out of much more dependence on him, and less on my own energy (and coffee). 

This morning, rest looked like opening up my Bible while it was still dark, fumbling through His word, letting my lack be met by His abundance. It looked like confessing that I'm tired and I know I'm more irritable, and asking for help to love well today, even on less sleep. 

I still love a good night sleep, don't get me wrong. Jeffrey recently had me listen to a 2-hour podcast from a neurologist who specializes in sleep and it was fascinating + compelling. But I'm learning that if the ideal night doesn't happen, that's okay. I don't need it like I used to think I did. I'm figuring out where true rest comes from. 

It's from the One who sees that I'm weary, who's up with me in those wee hours of the night comforting a baby. Who's comforting me, telling me to lay my burdens down with Him and pick up His grace. 

I'm clinging to that this morning. 

I'm also open to a coffee delivery service (this should be a thing for days such as this).