Blogging our first pregnancy and child rearing, all the ups and downs, tears and laughs and overthinking that not only comes with being knocked up and a new Momma, but with just being me.
Last night, or really this morning, I snuck out of bed to pee.
It’s a rare occurrence. Not being up at 3AM with a fussy, wanting milk boy, that’s not so rare.
As I peed and watched the light in the backyard, the moon shine on wet grass, the reflection of flood lights on black asphalt, I remembered winter here. Winter of 2011.
I remembered the movements of early motherhood. Of frequent nighttime feedings and chugging water after. It was never enough. Of often balancing my small baby in my arms as I peed.
I felt the thirst, I looked for the glass I’d always have full and waiting for after nursing. Sometimes one wasn’t enough.
I felt as if remembering an old friend. Fondly returning. Warmth filling me.
These pieces of the journey, they’ll stay with me.
When I’m elderly and watching the night sky through a bathroom window I’ll still remember.
Pieces of history, shared across many mothers. The universal movements.