No More Silent Nights

In all of the hand-me-down clothes I was given for E, there's only one Christmas outfit.

It's a long sleeved onesie, and it says "All that Mommy wants for Christmas is a silent night."

Before he was born, as I was going through, sorting, washing, and putting away all the hand me downs we got, I found this onesie and was immediately stunned and horrified.

It really is an innocent enough sentiment. Normal moms, frazzled by sleep deprivation probably really do wish for a silent night. One full night of sleep. And I really do understand. It's a reasonable thing.

But angel mommies.. we don't wish for that. We've had far too many silent nights. Nights where there was no crying baby to wake us, but we still couldn't sleep because of the tears running down our cheeks, the ache in our hearts and in our empty arms. And when we did fall asleep, we dreamed that our baby was there to wake us. Or we had nightmares about the reason she was not.

After I lost Brie, I remember lying awake next to a snoring M, wishing so desperately to be pacing the floor with a screaming, colicky infant. I could not understand why anyone would ever complain about a baby crying. I only got to hear my daughter cry once, and it was the most beautiful sound in the world.

Now with E, I understand a little more. Sometimes he's exhausting. Sometimes it's infuriating that he just won't stop crying and I don't know why. But when I start to get frustrated, I remember how I felt during those silent nights and smile. I am so incredibly blessed. Bring on the noisy nights.