We were like two ships passing in the night. I would wake up and head to the hospital first thing in the morning, coffee in hand, heart heavy and anxiety ridden. I would stay all day for several care sessions and you would meet me at after work. We’d spend a few minutes catching up about the babys “stats” that day, you would stay for a little while to visit and I would head home. By the time you got home and walked in the door, I was already sleeping from exhaustion.

We repeated this routine for nearly two months until we finally brought our first son home from the hospital. I was a shell of a person during that time. Down, distant, confused and stressed. Fighting every day alongside our son took every bit of my being. There wasn’t much left for anything else. And you . . . you waited for me.

This wasn’t the last time you have waited for me. I can remember the fog of parenting a toddler while pregnant. The exhaustion. The hormones. The anxiety. The trying to potty train, transitioning to a big boy bed, working full-time but trying to be a good mom and take care of my growing body phase of life. It was intense and I was lost. But you . . . you waited.

Then came parenting a toddler while having another baby in the NICU. Another out-of-body experience. Another emotional rollercoaster. Another time when I wasn’t “myself”. Another time you waited.

There have been a several times since then and there will be more in the future. Rather than getting frustrated or upset with the mothering fog I am in, you wait for it to lift. Sometimes it’s a few hours, sometimes it’s a few days. There have also been times when it has been several weeks. But you patiently wait.

You give me a few minutes to catch my breath . . . and wait until I find my way back.

You wait for me when I need it most.

You wait for me without asking.

You wait for me with the most love in your heart.

And I am forever grateful. 

Originally published on Project Preemie