Sweetest Memory

I read a book tonight that made me consider: Do I know what pure happiness feels like? The book was amazing - it deserves a blog post all its own... another time. But as I finally turned off my light I felt elated for having experienced a piece of beautiful art; for having participated in a story that spoke truth in perfect words. The letters on the pages formed words that skimmed through my eyes and floated effortlessly past the part of my brain that usually takes several moments to process the words on a page. I don't think I read the book. I felt it.

And as I lay in bed, and rejoiced in the cool air from the window drifting over my body... sleep was far from my eyes. You must understand that this is not unusual for me. I don't know much about "sarcadian rhythms", but I'm pretty sure mine is really messed up. Either that, or I was supposed to be born in China. That lovely heavy eyelid feeling only comes to me in the morning when I am supposed to get up (and stay up) to get Waverly off to school, and to care for the other two early birds I have for sons. I am also exceptionally talented at taking afternoon naps. But I wish you could see this --few people have had the honor (family, roommates, my husband)-- of seeing me WIDE awake between 10 pm and 2 am. My mind is alert, my eyes are sharp. "Why is everyone else so tired?" I wonder. And I should be too. Can I take a moment to feel proud of the 7.5 miles I ran and followed up with an intense pilates class today? Shouldn't my body be screaming for sleep?! But I digress...

So there I am with a cool breeze and body-conforming Temperpedic mattress...wondering if I know what complete and utter happiness feels like. And the memory hits me warm and straight in my heart. I can't just lay there and think about it. The memory is so tangible and alive in my mind's eye... I know my body won't let me sleep until this thought holds a somewhat solid form (on the internet?) in writing.

I used to replay this memory over and over in my mind just after my second baby, Henry, was born. Even with a newborn's night-feeding schedule I had trouble falling asleep - this memory became my sleep-inducing drug of choice. I hadn't replayed it for some time, so it came back as such a shock tonight it brought tears to my eyes.

........Henry was born after more than 30 hours of grueling labor. I hadn't slept in all that time and was then required to push this 9-pound baby from my loins. When the ordeal was over I remember the nurse forcing me to use the restroom on my own. She didn't understand that I was half-a-step away from passing out on the bathroom floor. She made me walk back across the labor room unassisted where I quite literally collapsed into the wheelchair where she was waiting. If the chair hadn't been there, I would have passed out on the floor.

I didn't crave much through my pregnancy, but I had an insatiable desire for a freshly-peeled orange at that moment. My doctor was kind enough to snag 2 from the doctor's lounge for me. After all, it was 4 in the morning by this time. The cafeteria was closed. Nothing has ever tasted as delicious to me as those sweet orange segments did at that time.

I was wheeled to my little, dark cave-of-a-room to sleep. With the refreshing taste and scent of oranges lingering I drifted off into the most deep and relaxing sleep I have ever experienced. Can you believe my "sweetest memory" hasn't even happened yet at this point in the story??

Some time later... still dark outside and in my tiny room, the door opened silently and the bright lights of the hospital hallway illuminated my sweet husband carrying a snug bundle towards my bed. He extended the bundle to me and said, "We have a beautiful little boy." The last time I had seen the baby he was fussy, naked and still "untidy" from the delivery. Now he was bathed and bundled into the sweetest little package I had ever handled. In my mind I have a snapshot of this moment. My arms reaching out to him... drawing him close under my face... feeling his soft cheek against my own - so soft, it felt like warm air. I haven't felt this with all of my babies; the feeling of familiarity-- I knew this little person. I knew he was "Henry"! But the smell of my new baby - pink and clean and straight from God. It was the scent. I know what heaven smells like: My newborn's soft, clean, blond hair! There are no words to describe it... just a moment in my memory that makes me say "I know what pure happiness feels like."