At
5 am, I heard the clarion call. Of my little 2-year-old Nomi. Calling
for her father from her crib. “Taaa-tty…Taaa-tty…” Of course, I began
with the time-honored response of all tired moms: pretending I didn’t
hear it. When that didn’t work, I tried to rationalize myself out of
it. It’s good for her to learn how to fall back asleep…she doesn’t
really need anything at this hour anyway…she really wants her father,
not me (which has been the subject of considerable therapy introspection on my part).
When her cries escalated and reality could no longer be realistically ignored, I let my tired husband sleep and headed on over to Nomi’s room to assess the situation. I found a wet, cold Nomi with a runny nose. Poor baby, I thought.
“Should Mommy clean you up and make you warm and dry?” I asked tenderly. She nodded vigorously.
So I took her out, cleaned her face, changed her diaper, pajamas, and crib sheet, gave her a drink of water, and settled down for our regular nightly ritual, wherein we place her blankie at a very particular 45-degree angle on my shoulder, say the “Shema,” and then (this is the very long part) go through all the people who love Nomi.
“Mommy
loves you, and Tatty (Daddy in Yiddish) loves you…Num-num (Miriam)
loves you…Moishy loves you…” and onward down the line. And we end with
“and Hashem (G-d) loves you most of all.” This gave Nomi a big smile,
and when we were through, I put her back in her clean, fresh crib, with
her clean, dry pj’s, rubbed her back, and tiptoed back out of the room.
As
someone who’s squarely on the insomnia continuum, I wondered if I’d
fall back asleep. But I didn’t even care. I reflected on how very
pleasurable this nocturnal rude awakening ended up. How very good it
felt to reach out to a cold, sad, wet child and help her to be loved,
warm, and cozy. How much I was willing to even exit my own warm bed to
do so.
And I thought…is this why G-d gives so freely, loves so enormously, bestows so much?
A nocturnal glimmer…and then I fell asleep.
