I hopped onto the blog tonight without thoughts on a topic or direction, but as is often the case, the ideas formed in my mind just as I sat down to type. For this very reason, this space has been so sacred to me throughout the past few months–and especially in the last five weeks as Henry has joined our family and life has adjusted in a major way.

When I get here, I don’t always know what I want to say, or exactly how to say it. There are days, of course, where I’ve had a thought I want to share since getting up in the morning…but more often as of late, I’ve been somewhat blank before sitting down at the computer at the end of a long day. So here I am again, at the end of a day that has been wonderful in a lot of ways and very long in others (read: 3.5 hours of sleep last night with the little one and only a short afternoon nap), and suddenly, in the moment, I have something to say.

Tonight, I’m rejuvenated by the silence that surrounds me, and this house, in this sweet (and surely momentary) space in time. Jason is out with the dog for a walk, and Henry, who was screaming not just 30 minutes ago, has fallen peacefully asleep in his car seat. Before this, we were arriving home from a lovely night with friends and I was planning to feed him for these minutes that are passing oh-so-quietly while he slumbers. For the moment, it’s just me and the couch and the click of the keyboard, with a peaceful stir from the other side of the room every once in a while.

As cliché as it may seem, I love the sound of Henry sleeping. From that tiny little person come the greatest little squeaks and murmurs as he’s sound asleep–unaware of the rest of the world. From this vantage point, he is my still (very) small baby, dreaming and growing and resting as he should; and the whole world feels right. In between the crying and the fussing, the squirming and trouble shooting that we take on each day, there is a stillness so beautiful in a newborn babe.

Our lives can become so cluttered up with the pace of things…the plans and schedules and commitments that we create for ourselves–and plenty that are created for us. But in this learning season, where everything is new and we stay closer to home, where schedules are what a baby makes of them and nights and days blend together, the clutter somehow melts away. We simply are. And we embrace the stillness. the silence. the noise.

soaking it in as the little one wakes…

mm

after (and before:) the noise tonight: