Sleeping Like a Baby...

In the midst of a diabolical winter, suddenly we were graced with a day of sunshine and temperatures approaching fifty degrees. While Emily and I gave the goats much-needed baths, my husband shoveled all the snow off the deck. Restricted for several months to a narrow strip of space under the eaves, Em and Ellie were delighted at this new expanse of wood and the fun clattering sound made by their hooves as they ran across the boards. Finally, exhausted, they collapsed in the sun for a nap. Sometimes, conditions are just perfect for sleeping...

Eighteen years ago, I had almost forgotten what sleep was. After several months in the hospital following their premature birth, our twin daughters had finally come home, bringing with them nonstop chaos. Gone were uninterrupted sleep, regular meals and any hint of sanity. When my frazzled husband mentioned that our church deacons wanted to visit one evening, I nearly choked on my twice-reheated pizza. The living room was littered with dirty diapers, congealed baby spit-up and heaps of laundry, and I was wearing the same clothes I'd slept in the night before (not that we really got more than an hour of sleep at a time). Entertain company tonight? Sure, why not?

Our guests arrived around 7 pm and graciously offered to feed the screamers, a brave gesture as the babies weighed a mere four pounds each and were tethered to heart monitors balanced on the coffee table. Bottles downed, the contented infants snuggled in their arms, our guests asked, "How long will they sleep?"

"No way to tell," I replied. "although they always sleep better when they're held."  What on earth do we talk about now? Should I offer them a snack - cold pizza, anyone? But there is wisdom in experience, and as parents themselves (their children grown) and no doubt prodded by our disheveled and bleary appearance, this kind couple had other ideas. "Why don't you both go take a nap," Sharon suggested. "We'll just hold the babies for an hour or two."

Oh no, I couldn't...but a whole hour! Or two! All at one time! Amidst my feeble protests I realized Mike was headed back the hallway - no need to ask him twice. If you insist... Mike was already snoring when my head hit the pillow. That's all I remember.

Confused to be wakened by my bladder instead of wailing infants, I pushed aside the covers and peered at the clock in the dark bedroom. WHAT??? Just minutes shy of midnight?? I shook Mike in panic. "Did you get up?" But his inarticulate grunt belied the truth as I stumbled into the living room - we had slept for nearly five hours as Sharon and Calvin, unable to move off the couch because of the heart monitor cords, held our babies, who were just beginning to fuss. Just like a fabulous gourmet meal or a film that grips your soul, I have never forgotten that sleep, a precious gift that rejuvenated me and got me through the worst of those earliest days.

Shhhhh...use the other door. We don't want to wake the goats!