The Hopewell House

You look at your clock,

It's 3:45AM, time to start out yet another morning because baby doesn't know how to tell time yet and that for the regular human population, this time is just way too early.

You stir around, mustering up the energy to feed and get the little one back to a nice peacefully sleep.

Realistically you know you should be following suite because Lord knows when you'll get your next power nap (because let's be honest mommas, at least in this stage, there's no such thing as sleep...just lots of little power naps) but you have things that need to get done for the day, and you still have to pump anyways, so why not stay up just a little longer. Cause sometimes motherhood gets mistaken for being invincible, though I might add there's definitely a level of superhero that comes with the title.

You finally finish and decide that power nap is definitely in order, but as you slowly begin to drift off to sleep, you are once again reminded by a not so tiny cry that you've missed your window and its time to feed again.

And of course, it's one of those days where a feeding turns into an all morning event where little one rotates between eating, sleeping, and sheer panic when they realize they fell asleep yet again...what a vicious cycle.

You finally get yourself and the twenty other items now deemed essential out the door (baby of course being your number one essential), you're possibly feeling a bit cocky because you are only a few minutes late to church and that feel like that's a major parenting win.

Driving down the street, baby of course is a tad fussy but thankfully the drive lulls them to sleep and once again you feel a tad bit victorious and that this morning might end up shaping up after all.

You even get a chance to grab a cup of coffee, and by now you're feeling quite full of yourself.

You go to sit down and of course, baby senses this because we all know babies have this incredible sixth sense to know when you're doing things like eating, relaxing, or showering, and they begin to fuss.

You pick up the little one, trying to calm them, when you notice a tiny wet spot on the back of their sleeper and you secretly know that they've had a major blow out in their diaper.

You think, well maybe its not that bad and I can wait until our group is over.

Ignoring this small problem you go on with the discussion at hand, to realize a few minutes later that there's now a wet spot on your jeans and you know deep down that the blow out has spread and can no longer be ignored.

Nonchalantly you try to maneuver you & the baby down to the floor, thankful you remembered diapers and a change of clothes.

At this point, you're trying to still engage in conversation while baby wiggles around and you secretly pray that they don't land their foot into the dirty diaper.

Things get cleaned up and you go to pick up baby only to have them spit up all down their new outfit and of course yours as well, but by now spit up doesn't really faze you because you no longer can remember a time where you didn't end up with spit up on you at some point throughout the day.

As you go to make your way finally back to your seat, baby of course (not so quietly) decides to inform you that they are in fact hungry again, which is total amazement to you because of their prior 2.5 hour feeding that took place earlier that morning.

You feed and the little one finally falls asleep just as group is finishing up.

You go on to survive that afternoon, even with another long feeding session. 

You manage to get a small nap in during that time, which of course feels like another glorious win until you notice that baby not only smells but both you and your little one are soaked.

After changing another explosive diaper, you know baths are now definitely no longer an option, but of course it's time to feed again so you wrap baby up in a blanket (because there are no point in clothes at this time) and begin another long, treacherous journey. 

Baby of course fights this and sleep, because once again, time and clocks are irrelevant.

By now it's nearing 9:30PM and you remember that some people still eat this thing called dinner and you wonder if that will be an option for you tonight.

Finally, as you win another small victory point, you lay down baby in the swing, run to the kitchen, and   look for the easiest & quickest thing to eat as you hear baby starting to stir again. 

After another small battle and struggle, baby finally conks out and by now you're really wondering if you should shower to remove the layers of spit up and pee, finally caving because you know you can smell yourself.

You're eyes are heavy with sleep, which is nothing really new either, and you make your way to bed only to remember that you still have to pump despite the sleep, despite the achy boobs.

By now, you're bordering between madness and sanity, and you think to yourself that you really don't know if you can manage to do this again tomorrow, when a small voice speaks to you saying, remember, this is what you prayed for.

And you think back on the years your heart ached for these moments, and you remember how you would have given anything to be right here, right now.

And you silently say a prayer as you look down and see that precious little thing sound asleep.

And you know deep down that you wouldn't trade any of this for anything in the world.