When Jacob - our oldest - was only months old, he was waking every two hours, round the clock. I was baffled...and exhausted. Frustrated that we couldn't seem to figure out why he wasn't sleeping, we tried a sound machine. We tried a bassinet. We tried putting him down in his crib. We swaddled. We unswaddled. Put him on his back. Put him on his side. We thought it may be acid reflux. We tried so many different things to get that boy to sleep. It was miserable and felt like it would last F...O...R...E...V...E...R.
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Jacob has always been an extremely busy boy. Curious and bubbly, he is often rambunctious and easily excited. While it is fun to watch him discover, explore, and enjoy the fun of whatever he is experiencing, it was especially tiring when he was in the throws of toddler-hood. He was a barrel of difficult-to-contain (and restrain) energy.
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Eventually, and somewhat accidentally, we figured out that Jacob wasn't sleeping because he was hungry. Initially I felt so guilty and inadequate. I somehow felt that it was my fault that I couldn't provide for him. However, once we got that tummy full, that boy turned into a sleeping machine. I mean like 7:00 p.m. -7:00 a.m. plus two 90-minute naps every day.
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Today I took Jacob in for his 4-year checkup. Jacob wanted me to read him a book while we waited in the patient waiting room. He sat so sweetly and calmly as I read him a riveting installment of Spiderman versus Electro. As we finished up the words of the last page, in movie-perfect timing, they called his name. They weighed him (50 pounds!), measured his height (44 inches!), and we waited in the exam room for the pediatrician. He quietly asked if he could play the "Bible Game" on my phone. And then asked if he could sit in my lap.
And it occurred to me just how fast my first baby was growing up. How proud of this sweet boy I was. I am. How much we've been through. How much I've not only learned about him but about myself in the process.
It would be dishonest of me to say that I've never had moments where I wished the difficulty would pass. If we could just fast-forward.
But I think about what I would have lost in the process.
But I think about what I would have lost in the process.
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In Zeke's first few months, acid reflux and food intolerances brought even more sleeplessness. I prayed many a night in desperation for God to soothe my baby since my attempts were just not working. And while it took some time for the medicine and dietary changes to kick in, Zeke's tummy began to heal and relief spread throughout our house.
But one thing was different this time: I knew it wouldn't last forever.
So, now as Zeke is entering full-blown toddler-hood and proving to be just as active (and feisty and dare-devilish) as Jacob, I again have a comfort that I didn't have the first time: this difficult stage will not last forever.
I will blink and my Squeaker Zekers will be a 4-year-old, speaking in full sentences, sitting in my lap for an entire story, and able to dress himself from head to toe.
It's such a poignant mix of emotions, really. Taking heart that the challenging stages will pass. And savoring those sweet, priceless, precious moments.
Because they will not last forever.
Because they will not last forever.
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