30 Minutes

The twins were right in the middle of their morning nap when I realized I needed to use the computer.  I tiptoed up the stairs and quietly sat down at the desk in our living room.  I softly tapped the keys and finished my task in record time.  As I was standing up to head downstairs, I heard her.

Sweet Sloaney was awake.

It'd only been 45 minutes and their morning nap typically lasts several hours.  I peeked in the nursery and there she was, sitting up and looking right at me.  I turned on the sleep sheep and backed out of the room.  She immediately started whimpering.  I knew if I let her cry she'd wake Jude so I did something I'm not sure I've ever done before.

I walked to her crib, picked her up, and carried her to the rocker.  She was so warm and had a little red spot on her forehead where she'd been sleeping.  She had tired eyes and a soft smile.  I used my finger to draw her face.  Her jawbone, her cheeks, her perfect nose, her tiny lips.  I kissed the top of her head and inhaled deeply.  And then I took the blanket I've used countless times in the middle of the night and wrapped it tightly around us.

I let her fall asleep in my arms.  I was supposed to go to the post office and drop off several packages.  I desperately needed to clean the house since my parents would be visiting in a few days.  I'd just made a batch of pumpkin muffins and the remaining batter was sitting on the counter.  But all I heard in my head, over and over again, was this: "Babies don't keep.  Babies don't keep."  And so I stayed with her.

I looked down at my beautiful girl and watched her dark eyelashes flutter and then become so still.  Her hand slowly lost its grip on my finger and I felt her entire body relax in my arms.  At that moment, I realized she felt safe and secure and loved.

And for 30 minutes of an otherwise ordinary day, I felt safe... and secure... and loved.