Home Sweet Home

I arrived home late on Saturday to a completely quiet house. The dogs didn't even bark. I quickly changed out of my clothes and into my pjs and said a quick hello to my mom, who was watching TV in her room. Within seconds, I heard Libby. She must have heard me talking with my mom (their rooms are right next to each other). So I went in and took her from her crib. It was about 11 p.m. I nursed and rocked her, thinking I'd get her back to sleep. Not so. She wanted to be up. So I turned on the lamp and we visited for a while. We read books and played with her dolly. My mom came in and filled me in on all that had happened that week. Nice weather meant a walk to the park and looking at the trees with their new blooms. Separation anxiety at night meant not too much sleep for anyone.

Finally, at around 1 a.m. Libby went back to sleep where she stayed until 9:30 a.m. It felt so good to sleep in my own bed, next to my honey. Even with losing an hour "springing forward," I felt well-rested. We got up and had a leisurely morning before heading out to a friend's first birthday party. It was an especially touching milestone to celebrate since she had lost her first daughter just days after she was born. En route, I dropped off the 75 ounces of milk I had pumped while I was out-of-town. I had no issues bringing it back through TSA.

This week was a tough one. To be away from Libby for the first time. And also with all that has gone on in the world...far away...with the devastating earthquake and tsunami in Japan and the continuing unrest and violence in Libya. To a little closer to home with my friend Sarah unexpectedly loosing both her aunt and then her father. At 38 weeks pregnant, she was unable to travel to either of them to say goodbye. My heart just breaks for her. Her sweet boy was born on Saturday, just a day after her father died. And my friend, to whom I've been donating my milk, she was to finalize her baby's adoption on Thursday. Only to find out that a man has come forward and is claiming paternity. This is not the same man who terminated paternal rights on the paperwork at the hospital back when the baby was born. It's someone new. And it means awaiting the results of a DNA test before any decisions can be made. What's worse is this guy is a convicted felon, meth cooker and drug addict. My friend is just beside herself with anxiety about the unknown. So I am praying hard...for her and her family, for my friend Sarah and her family and for all of the people in Japan and Libya and anywhere else there is suffering. And I am hugging my loved ones a little closer tonight. Because, as we've been reminded with these events, we never really know what tomorrow will bring. Or if tomorrow will ever come.

Do not stand at my grave and weep,
I am not there, I do not sleep.
I am in a thousand winds that blow,
I am the softly falling snow.
I am the gentle showers of rain,
I am the fields of ripening grain.
I am in the morning hush,
I am in the graceful rush
Of beautiful birds in circling flight,
I am the starshine of the night.
I am in the flowers that bloom,
I am in a quiet room.
I am in the birds that sing,
I am in each lovely thing.
Do not stand at my grave bereft
I am not there. I have not left.
~Mary Elizabeth Frye