Between Asleep and Awake

It had been one of those particularly hard days. One where nothing in particular went wrong, but Adam required more attention than normal, never entertaining himself and sleeping only while I was holding him. Ben was gone 14 hours that day. When he came home he stayed awake only long enough to give Adam a bottle and put him down and then off to bed for another early morning. I remained awake, willing the child in the next room to sleep while debating whether to go to bed myself or stay up for much needed alone time. While putting laundry away I heard the familiar little wimpers turning into bigger cries calling to me for comfort. I walked into our bedroom and leaned over the bassinet meeting the eyes of my son, who immediately calmed at the sight of me. I replaced the pacifier and began to rock the bassinet back and forth, humming and shushing the tiny one, my shoulders slumped and eyes ached from exhaustion. I realized with a start that this particular picture, me lovingly gazing into a crib while tending to my baby, was one I had longingly painted in my mind's eye in those moments between asleep and awake in the months and years before Adam arrived. Suddenly the emotion of the moment overwhelmed me and I felt a crushing weight bearing down on my chest. My eyes traced the perfect features of the heavy-lidded face before me and a happiness so great it was frightening consumed me, coursing through my limbs and squeezing my heart. Panic as much as joy filled me. A sense of foreboding assured me that a happiness this great must be fleeting, and I was left wondering if I will ever be able to escape the suffocating fear that this beautiful dream will end in a moment. Would I ever be able to divorce the exaltation of motherhood from the accompanying angst? Adam's eyes closed and his rhythmic breathing assured me he had drifted to sleep. I closed my own eyes in silent prayer, searching for answers to unanswerable questions, praying for wisdom, for strength, and for peace.