6 weeks in

I believe that God is gracious. He helps me in many ways, and yesterday was without exception.

Six weeks. I just had to make it to six weeks, and it will be easier. The last six weeks have been challenging at times. They have been wonderful at times, and they have certainly been tiring, all the time. But yesterday was the six weeks of going into labor. True, technically the baby wasn't six weeks old yet, but I'll take it.

Yesterday was a really good day.

Six weeks ago, I took my wedding ring off in the van on the way home from the city. The very next day I went into labor. I didn't remember to move it. It was in a bad place. It got lost.

I lost my wedding ring.

Not ok.

I first noticed on the way home from the hospital. We looked everywhere. I called the hospital twice, my husband called once, and I stopped in once. I gave up, and it stunk. I really thought that somehow it would turn up.

So it was really hard for me. And I have had some time to try to figure out why.

It isn't the monetary value. It's minimal. It wasn't my engagement ring, just the wedding band.

True, it is just a ring and can be easily replaced. But the actual ring was what my husband gave to me on our actual wedding day. That can't be replaced. It isn't necessarily the day that it symbol0ized. The day was great, but let's be honest. If you were Bill Murray (Groundhog's day!) and had to live one day over and over again, would it really be your wedding day? Mine was simple but it was still tiring. So it isn't just the day.

It's the moment when this man, who I love so much, became mine forever. This is the guy that I tried so hard to convince myself would just be a good friend before we started dating, this is the guy who I moved away from, then drove 8 hours to see way too often, and talked to every day for a year. He became more to me, in that moment. We became forever. The ring didn't do that, but it reminds me.

So I was devastated.

Yesterday, at the magic six week mark, my remarkable husband replaced it. I told him that it couldn't be just a shopping day that we picked it up, it needed to be special. And he made it so. Although the first one can't really be replaced, it has been.

And I'm not going to lose it.

Also yesterday, I gave Owen gas drops through the day, and he was so much better in the evening. It was the first time in many weeks that we were both able to be doing things to get ready for supper without holding him. He sat nicely as we all ate. Then he went into the swing, which he has hated since he was about two weeks old, and fell asleep while Emma took a bath. I was ecstatic. I vacuumed at 7:00 p.m. It was glorious. I think I am going to give him gas drops, and stop giving him the acid reflux medication, and see what happens. It was hard to get him to sleep, but I finally did at 11, or somewhere in there, and he slept until 4:30. 4:30!!!! So, six weeks to the day, and he slept longer than he ever has. The chains of sleep deprivation are loosening.

Also...Emma and I were romping around, and I plunked her down on the couch and bent over to quiet Owen. I heard a gasp and looked under my legs from my football stance and watched my darling daughter fall head first onto the floor from the couch. She cried. It was a cry that took a long time to come out. We just watched her as her face got redder and redder, and then the flood gates opened. Not that I blame her. It would have been the same for me. I scooped her up and was holding her and hugging her and telling her that I was really sorry and that she was going to be ok. But she insisted that she needed daddy. She pushed off of me and lunged into his outstretched arms, and there they held on to each other. Slowly she calmed down. One may think that this doesn't fit into my great day, but it does.

I have been dreading that day for months. Every toddler has falls and spills, and she has not had near her fair share. So it came, and she didn't break her neck (which is a real concern of mine) or get a concussion (which could really happen, right?) or shed any blood (which freaks me out every time). She fell, she cried, she got on with life.

Then this morning she said her "ABC's" again, though still with the exception of "l" and "w", and "brushed" her teeth for the first time. She spent a lot of time biting the toothbrush and couldn't really spit, but enjoyed the process of trying.

It is really beginning to feel like life again. I have left my house twice this week with no kids. I went for a jog and didn't worry or feel guilty the entire time. I am caught up with our laundry. The carpet is clean and most of the other odd and end things are done. I feel like I am doing better during the days. I am learning to be a mom to two.

And it feels like life.