The past few nights Eliot has been sleeping in his crib. Believe me, I would rather keep him close in the co-sleeper by the bed or watch him rest on Trav’s arm, quietly stroking his face.
But Eliot is in a new season, one with no swaddles and the freedom to roll around and figure out what sleep really means for a 5 month old. I lie in bed and listen to his every move over monitor speaker…and my new motherheart begins to worry–a truly worthless endeavor if ever there was one. I cannot shield him from every danger.
We miss him, so we bring him back to our bed, our safety net. But he does not stay. Back in his own, he rests better, better rest than he had gotten on Trav’s sweet arm. It’s a small first step in letting go. It’s telling God that I trust and that I do not want to be afraid, because for me, this bed is control. It is my best attempt to keep him from harm.
But there he sleeps soundly, wakes happy, wakes in the safety of the King of his rest. No, it is not the six hours of rest I had prayed for, but it is sometimes three, sometimes two. Maybe those prayers have always been for me. Maybe my heart just needs to practice faith, even in the fear and exhaustion. Maybe as Eliot sleeps in his own room and way, my Father teaches me a new lesson.
New lessons and new seasons often come in pairs.