Last night I was sitting in Claire's room getting her ready for bed. We'd brushed her teeth, gotten her pjs on and picked out her night time stories. This was literally all I could muster. If I had to read the books, say the prayers, or sing the lullabies my throat would probably literally have fallen out. So, I was in her room sitting on the floor slumped against her bed waiting for Kevin to finish with Jude and come take over with Claire. (He's sick too, so he was in super-husband mode!) As I sat slumped over, Claire was being Claire. She's leaping over constructed obstacles, clambering across my knees, and spinning in circles-all the while talk-talk-talking. It was like an endless cacophony of movement and noise. Too much for my sick pregnant brain that, at this point, had not slept in two nights. (We're at three nights now, in case you're keeping score.)
Then, she suddenly stopped, came over to me, and put a hand on my shoulder. "I'm so sorry you're sick, Mamma. Here..." Then she leaned over and gingerly draped her arms around me. "This is all my love." She hugged me tenderly, then stepped back with her hand still on my shoulder and looked earnestly into my eyes. "I love you," she said. Then it was back to jumping and climbing and spinning and talking.
Just like that, a Kairos moment broke through my fog. And then I realized how much I would have given up had I skipped this seemingly grueling part of that night, this week, this time. Those moments are few, but they matter.