The Soft Edges of Peace at 2am

Oh little stinker.  Couldn’t get enough of you when I was a teenager and often blissfully slept until 12 noon when I could.

Pulled all nighters in college during exam week and now I wonder how I managed to take final exams at all.

Youth and procrastination ruled my life.

Longed for you when I was a new Mom with a cranky baby.  I distinctly remember making the bed shortly after I had number 3 and decided the bed looked too inviting not to lay down in it and dropped off into the land of nod immediately only to a be awakened by crying toddlers, a hungry newborn and a hubby wondering where I was.

As a nurse I avoided the night shift like the plague when I discovered, no matter how tired I was, I was a lousy day sleeper.  I had a hard time recovering from those shifts.

Fast forward to last night.  It was long day and I gratefully crawled into bed anxious for sleep.

Oh sleep you big stinker.  I tried and finally gave up at 2 am and wandered out to the family room.

It was there I remembered the peaceful edges of the night.  No electronics, no lights save for the moonlight filtering in the semi closed shades.

I remembered a seminar I went to given by a midwife who had 12 children.

Yes I said 12.

She made us laugh a lot but I also remember her cherishing the wee hours of the morning.  After 12 children she routinely woke at 2am. As she studied for her Masters degree she said those were the hours she got the most studying done and they were a gift from her children.  It became a habit to wake up at 2 am after all those years of feeding newborns.

She was sincere about it and I believed her and still do.

It’s been years since I thought of that seminar and her wise words.

Someone else just told me that Angels will wake us up to remind us of our blessings.

I smiled because as I sat in the serenity and grace of a quiet house I was reminded of things my Dad use to say to me that always made me smile, the nickname he had for me, his crazy jokes, his strong midwest values, his honesty, love of babies and always his support.

That nickname.

He was the only one who used it.

Hugging me he would say ” So how is my fat baby?” referring to my rather chubbier than chubby size as an infant.

Rest assured it was a term of endearment.

I would give anything to hear it one more time.

Obviously he wasn’t wrong 🙂

I’m in the middle..oh those cheeks 🙂

The Angels can wake me up anytime especially when one looks like my Dad.

Forever and Always,

Your Fat Baby

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