(no subject)
Having snowed nearly five inches last night in a matter of hours, school was hopelessly, or hopefully depending on who you ask, was cancelled. Leaving my sister and brother-in-law out of day care for the afternoon admits trying to leave for a weekend gateway with friends.
So I pitched in to watch Reegan.
She was down for her nap, only a half-an-hour in on what normally is a two and half-hour nap when suddenly she starts screaming.
I run to her crib and find her standing in her bed, crying her little blue eyes out. I didn't know what could be wrong, other than a strange toddler nightmare.
I scoop her up in my arms and imminently try to sooth her tears . Maybe she had a bad dream or woke up and forgot she'd be at grandmas instead of the comfort of her own home.
But my attempts to cradle her fears come to no avail. She continues to wail.
Figuring maybe she's not tired anymore, maybe she wants to play, I put her down and assume she'll wander off to find toys, but nothing. More tears. More screams.
I rub her back, whisper "shhh" tell her its okay but nothing works.
She clings to my arms. When I put her down she imminently face plants into the carpet to continue to cry.
This continues for minutes or what feels like hours. I don't know what to do. She just keeps screaming, tears keep coming. By now is warm to the touch, and her little faced is bright red from the agony she's in.
I plop her in front of me, eye to eye, I tell her I'm sorry. I don't know what's wrong.
She looks at me with those little soulful eyes, tears streaming.
I can't fix it. I don't know what's wrong. All I can do is comfort her.
And then I start to cry.
Here I am, holding my little niece in my arms, whispering to her, rubbing her back, saying how sorry I am but this will pass. I don't want her to be in pain. I'm crying as hard as her now. I feel so bad.
I don't want her to feel how I feel. Alone. Scared. In pain.
I'm hugging her, sitting on my lap, thinking, wishing I had someone to hold me. To hug me. To wipe away my tears and try to soothe everything I feel.
And that's all I can think about. Please. Don't ever let this child feel what I feel right now.
And I wonder if this is how God feels.
I wonder if he's trying to hold me and tell me it'll be okay but I just have to wait for this to pass.
That there's nothing that can be done right now but waiting.
It hurts to think but its strangely the only comfort I can find.
The story ends well for Reegs. After frantic phones calls, my sister informs me to give her baby Tylenol, mostly likely the after effects of bilateral ear infections from earlier in the week. She calms and contently sits, cradled in the cave of my arms while I rub her belly, she sucks her thumb and we watch cartoons.
But the story isn't over for me.
I'm still waiting for the soothing, for the comfort.
Its more than a broken heart. Its broken dreams.
It's turning 24 in a month with all this pressure. It's living back at home in a town with no one I know. With nothing familiar.
It's friends you thought you had but no longer.
It's a degree you spend five years perfecting to only mean nothing in the outside. It's no career. It's being broke. Its your field, the one thing you always saw yourself doing, fading.
It's starting over and doing it all alone.
It's thinking you had it together when now you can't catch your breath.
It's this. It's all this.
It is being broken-hearted after nearly five years, dedicating so much for it to mean nothing.
Feeling totally and completely utterly alone.
And it's fear.
I just want to know when it'll be over.
When I can get that hug and that comfort. Someone, anyone, to wipe away those tears and that feeling of hopelessness.
I simply have more pain than I can deal with.
So I pitched in to watch Reegan.
She was down for her nap, only a half-an-hour in on what normally is a two and half-hour nap when suddenly she starts screaming.
I run to her crib and find her standing in her bed, crying her little blue eyes out. I didn't know what could be wrong, other than a strange toddler nightmare.
I scoop her up in my arms and imminently try to sooth her tears . Maybe she had a bad dream or woke up and forgot she'd be at grandmas instead of the comfort of her own home.
But my attempts to cradle her fears come to no avail. She continues to wail.
Figuring maybe she's not tired anymore, maybe she wants to play, I put her down and assume she'll wander off to find toys, but nothing. More tears. More screams.
I rub her back, whisper "shhh" tell her its okay but nothing works.
She clings to my arms. When I put her down she imminently face plants into the carpet to continue to cry.
This continues for minutes or what feels like hours. I don't know what to do. She just keeps screaming, tears keep coming. By now is warm to the touch, and her little faced is bright red from the agony she's in.
I plop her in front of me, eye to eye, I tell her I'm sorry. I don't know what's wrong.
She looks at me with those little soulful eyes, tears streaming.
I can't fix it. I don't know what's wrong. All I can do is comfort her.
And then I start to cry.
Here I am, holding my little niece in my arms, whispering to her, rubbing her back, saying how sorry I am but this will pass. I don't want her to be in pain. I'm crying as hard as her now. I feel so bad.
I don't want her to feel how I feel. Alone. Scared. In pain.
I'm hugging her, sitting on my lap, thinking, wishing I had someone to hold me. To hug me. To wipe away my tears and try to soothe everything I feel.
And that's all I can think about. Please. Don't ever let this child feel what I feel right now.
And I wonder if this is how God feels.
I wonder if he's trying to hold me and tell me it'll be okay but I just have to wait for this to pass.
That there's nothing that can be done right now but waiting.
It hurts to think but its strangely the only comfort I can find.
The story ends well for Reegs. After frantic phones calls, my sister informs me to give her baby Tylenol, mostly likely the after effects of bilateral ear infections from earlier in the week. She calms and contently sits, cradled in the cave of my arms while I rub her belly, she sucks her thumb and we watch cartoons.
But the story isn't over for me.
I'm still waiting for the soothing, for the comfort.
Its more than a broken heart. Its broken dreams.
It's turning 24 in a month with all this pressure. It's living back at home in a town with no one I know. With nothing familiar.
It's friends you thought you had but no longer.
It's a degree you spend five years perfecting to only mean nothing in the outside. It's no career. It's being broke. Its your field, the one thing you always saw yourself doing, fading.
It's starting over and doing it all alone.
It's thinking you had it together when now you can't catch your breath.
It's this. It's all this.
It is being broken-hearted after nearly five years, dedicating so much for it to mean nothing.
Feeling totally and completely utterly alone.
And it's fear.
I just want to know when it'll be over.
When I can get that hug and that comfort. Someone, anyone, to wipe away those tears and that feeling of hopelessness.
I simply have more pain than I can deal with.