My Parenting Handbook

Tonight I held Samantha as she fell asleep. When she was born and reading different parenting books, I was strongly admonished to let me baby cry it out, not to rock them to sleep, to let them learn to fall asleep on their own. But no matter what I did, Samantha just cried. And cried. And cried. Sleep was sparse and as I sought out parenting books to give me suggestions, I found myself feeling more and more horrible for not doing it right – not parenting correctly. I put the books down and began mothering my way. For months, I nursed Samantha to sleep…yes, on purpose! We slept together on the couch, her small body lying across my warm chest. I know it wasn’t necessarily the “right way,” but it was the only way I could function. It was my way. She needed her sleep, and so did we.

Though her sleep habits have vastly improved, she’s my cuddle bug and I take advantage of that from time to time. Parenting books would chastise me, urging me to break such damaging habits. And yes, perhaps, I do too often indulge myself and hold her until she falls into a deep sleep. A part of me knows that this may have negative consequences, but the other part of me wonders for just how long I’ll have this guilty pleasure of watching Samantha drift to sleep from this angle – her eyelashes touching the tops of her cheek, her right hand pressed against her left cheek, the unique contour of her small face.

Tonight as I held her she squirmed. The cast on her right foot, her tight foot, stretches her muscles and causes some discomfort. Of all the odd and unusual things, I’ve discovered this past week that if I play with her right ear, she’ll doze off. I began with her earlobe, gently wiggling back and forth between my thumb and pointer finger. She calmed down, but her eyes were still slightly opened. I brushed her bangs to the side, and as I began to remove a sticky substance from her hair, she willingly fell asleep. And I looked at her. I looked at those eyelashes. I felt the shape of her head, trying to memorize every bump and indentation – her scar that runs across the top of her head. I pressed my lips against the top of her head and took in a deep breath, smelling her coconut shampoo. And I wondered…how is she even alive?

Flashback: We are living in Utah. I so perfectly remember our apartment. Samantha is about 8 months old. Intractable seizures. She’s having upwards of 17 per day. There is a car accident near our apartment complex. Fire engines and ambulances are present. Marcus, walking home from school, sees the emergency vehicles and assumes they are for her – his daughter and only child. He runs until he realizes that the trucks are attending to other’s needs.

Samantha sneezes and I’m brought back to the present moment. Again I wondered, how is it that this little girl is alive? I held her closer to me, her cheek pressing against me even tighter. Her spirit. Yes. Definitely Samantha has a spirit that is so full of determination and…life. But even then, with the many odds against her, how is it that she is breathing so smoothly, curled up in my arms? How is it when she has a seizure and she stops breathing...that the seizures stops and color flushes her skin again? And the only true answer that I could come up with is my Heavenly Father. He is sustaining her and helping her day by day – because there is a reason she is alive. And though I often want the steering wheel, it’s much better that He’s in control.

Today wasn’t a particularly good or bad day. There were parts that were good and parts that were frustrating. It was a normal day, I suppose. I took the girls for a walk, and it was a really good, fun walk – but I didn’t s a v o r it like I should have. Tonight was that necessary reminder of the immense blessings I have and from where they come, and a reminder to have gratitude for every. single. moment.

I’m going to stick with my parenting handbook, because one day He'll call her home. One day, He'll know that everything she's supposed to do, or learn, or teach has been accomplished. So, I'll hold Samantha as she falls asleep. I’m going to brush the hair across her forehead and smell her hair. And most definitely as I do it, I’m going to thank my Father for each and every moment I have to do that with her.

From that smile on her face, I'm pretty sure this girl agrees with my decision on this matter.