Last night I was up long enough to know that there were 6 trains pass through between 3:12am and 6:47am.  And it's not that I'm all into exactness.  I just had time on my  hands between feedings, burps, and calming little cries in hopes of settling the urge to cry myself.  There were a lot of I love you's during the time that the six trains rolled along in hopes and with ambitions of reminding us both that these long nights won't last forever, even when at 4:28am you are certain they will.  Nights like that are like someone giving you a yard stick and saying, ok, now measure how far the east is from the west, then turning on heel and leaving as quickly as they came, with a quick oh yea and good luck over their shoulder.

I'll confess, the nights are long.  The simple fact that it's mid January and I'm living somewhere around a northern parallel don't help the situation, coupled with the exasperation of unanswered prayers of please just 2 more hours continually mocking me as the minutes tick by.  I get that it's only a time.  I appreciate that the crying will stop and the hours between sleep and wake will divide and conquer properly, but man, it seriously sucks right now.  And at 5:53am I understood why some mothers lose their minds.

But the eternal optimist in me always somehow manages to see a silver lining or gray curve or something on the horizon that might not have been there 3 seconds earlier.  My husband arrived downstairs early, just when I wasn't certain I'd make it he arrived with all the right words and quiet movements.  His gentleness brought all my tears to the surface and the only words that made sense to me in was that right now was just so hard.  And he hugged me and told me how proud he was of me and saw my weakness as strength.  I drank my first cup of hot coffee without interruption and watched as he fed and rocked our daughter.  And I watched as she trusted him and fell asleep looking up at him...and while I didn't fall asleep myself, I rested in knowing that she wasn't the only one who trusted him. 

There's been a certain sort of stripping away in our relationship, where we've finally allowed ourselves to be who we are and let the chips fall where they may without worry or concern about what the world outside of us thought.  It's been scary and liberating, like taking that first step over the edge, uncertain of your footing, but somehow hoping and then knowing your rope is strong enough to hold a misstep.

We're a long ways from perfect, but we are getting the details sorted out.

Love at first sight is easy to understand; it's when two people have been looking at each other for a lifetime that it becomes a miracle.

Amy Bloom