“I don't know about anyone else, but a massive toddler
tantrum before 6 a.m. is exactly how I like to start my morning!”
This is a FB status I read recently. What I immediately
thought was, “Yes please. I’d start each and every day that way if I could.”
But, as always, I don’t write anything. Truth is I was rarely on FB before A
died and since his stillbirth have avoided it even more so for the obvious reasons.
What makes this particular post sting even more is that this girl’s son, the
toddler culprit, was born a couple weeks before A. They’d be the same exact
age.
I know many babylost parents have expressed it more
eloquently than I, but this is just another example of how losing A has affected
my parenting. Not that I took things for granted before, but when Dragonette is
extra fussy or won’t nap unless she’s held, I am far more patient than I would
have been if she was my first child.
I am not a saint of a mother. There are times when I cannot
deal with her and pass her off enthusiastically to Daddy or Grandma. On rough
days I look forward to a break in caring for her. But this newfound patience is
most certainly a gift from my son. He has taught me what is really important in
life and to cherish each small moment.
So when she won’t go back to sleep after eating at 3 a.m., I
begrudgingly, but not resentfully, get up to walk and jostle her for an hour.
