There is something about the way their chest rises and falls to the beat of their innocent heart that captivates me to lay there a moment or two longer. Their freshly brushed teeth send off a scent into my nostrils that makes me want to stay there in their tiny beds forever. Watching them dream sends signals to my uterus to ovulate while my brain tells my body to stop and remember 3 pm, before Daddy returned home.
Remember the crayon on the walls? Do they still look cute sleeping now?
Oh yes , yes they do. They are Angels, and I am but an innocent bystander of their sweet breathing.
There is many a night where I lay beside them, my hand on their chest to make sure they are breathing correctly. One, two, three, I make my rounds to pray over them a millionth time before I settle in my bed.
When the house is still and quiet, I feel confident I can be a mother tomorrow. I can wipe all the butts, and give all the kisses needed to move forward after a fall completely to fault of a sibling. I can clean all the dishes, says the silence.
I can wash all the laundry, says the silence.
Tomorrow I can be the best that I can be, because at the end of the day there is silence. At the end of the day, no matter how much I mess up, they are safe in their beds. Sleeping soundly, without a care in the world but what they will eat for breakfast the next morning.
In the silence I see that life isn’t made up of my mistakes as a Mother, it’s made up of my graces to myself. I am learning to love, as they are learning to follow my lead. Frankly, I do not have it all together, but I do love my children. Enough to try and love them effectively.
In all the silence I know why I am here. I know I am meant to love them, and listen to them breathe.
