Splash the Puddles

I remember the very early morning email I received "from" a little bean growing in my sister-in-law's belly, asking me to pray for it, like it was yesterday.  (technically the email was written by my baby brother, but from the perspective of the baby itself) I squealed loudly from behind the desk in my classroom and ran out into the hallway despite the fact that my room had students already filing in it.  I almost ran smack into my very newly pregnant sister-in-law, coming in anticipation of my reaction.  What a joyous moment-a hug shared between sisters and friends.  We were having a baby! I remember the text message I received early one morning, that I was already anticipating and God had prepared me for, that something had gone wrong.  I remember the call from my brother asking me if I could come and sit with him as they took his wife, the mother of his first child, my sister and my dear friend back.  Sitting with him...

It's 1:07 a.m. and I am awake. I'm awake because there is a tiny hot and sweaty leg up against mine, making me unable to comfortably settle into my slumber. I dislike being hot (and especially sweaty) while I sleep. Or ever.  I'd scoot him closer to his grown twin, but that space is currently occupied by the smaller version of me, in male form-likely plastered in hot sweatiness to his dad's leg. His dad isn't bothered. In fact, he's snoring. Loudly.  I want to be annoyed-it's 1:10 now. But I can't be. I can't be annoyed because of a profound thought that has taken up residence in my brain and grown roots there that are currently weaving in and out of my thoughts.  Many women would give anything to have a tiny, hot and sweaty leg stuck to theirs, keeping them from sleep. Many women would give up everything to have two small ones crammed between her and her (snoring) love. Even just for one night.  Many women can't.  I am among those who can-those ...