Friday, November 7, 2014


waking up at three to give your baby a binkie
will almost always open the door to insomnia.
you'll read that the blue light in your phone
tricks your brain to think it's daytime,
but you're too warm to leave your bed
for the familiar glow of netflix.
you stalk and you pin and you forget there is anything else to the internet.
you put your phone away.
you toss and turn and adjust that blue body pillow
you tested on the floor of a bed, bath & beyond.
you secretly will your husband to wake up so he can hold you
but you refuse to be the one to wake him
because he got up early yesterday morning
and took the baby so you could sleep in.

it seems like no matter how much you sleep,
you are never fully rested.

at 5:13, he will wake to the baby's cry,
roll over and ask if you're okay.
you tell him you've been up since three
and start to cry.
he will hold you close to his chest and keep you safe in his arms.
you try to match your breathing to his,
but exhaustion refuses to let you keep beat.
by some beautiful, blessed miracle,
you fall asleep.

you wake to a whisper that the baby is awake.
you can feel the tears welling up again.
he offers to change her diaper while you twist to the left,
pull the covers over your face and cry a little longer.
a minute passes before pull yourself together enough to empty that bladder
you swear you just emptied two hours ago.

all you want to do is cry and sleep and wish
you had your own mary poppins to drug you with a spoonful of sugar
and to watch your baby while you sleep the entire day.
heaven knows she'd learn more with mary than with barney.

you step into the hallway and curse those lights for being so bright.
tears and sadness wrap themselves around your heart.
part of you wants to let them win.
"keep wrapping. cover the whole thing. i quit."
before you reach the end of the hallway,
before grief has completely won,
a rosy little face with sleep marks smiles up at you.
nothing keeps sadness at bay like the unconditional love of a baby.
it's a love that will carry you through until 5:30.
a love that should be enough to help you power through one more day.


Kayla said...

you are such a talented writer.

Krista said...

Oh my dear, I wish we lived closer, I would absolutely take Jude for the day. I know exactly how you feel, I spent all Wednesday crying my eyes out, just wanting a day or two to myself without worrying about little humans and their needs. Their complete dependence on us is at once totally overwhelming and absolutely wonderful. Take heart mama, it always gets better.

Kayla and Greg said...

I love this! So beautiful!

-Danica- said...

You write so beautifully. So much emotion and love, you are making me feel all the things

Rachel Vidmar said...

oh girl, I feel all these feels. you wrote it perfectly. I don't know how you do it- being so pregnant with a toddler. you are so strong and brave. these days are hard, but damn if they aren't worth it. keep going. we're rooting for you!

katrina said...

so many feelings. brissa, this is good.

kyliebrooke|s said...

always write, brissa. you have such a gift. but also, you are a good woman and you have a good husband and you make a good family.

Kari said...

I love you. You are seriously my favorite. I admire you so much and I hope that sleep becomes your friend again.