To this day, I don’t know just how it happened.
She was the most adorable baby girl you’ve ever seen, and I was beside myself with gratefulness for her.
First, there was her big brother who was very busy and all of 18 months old.
Then there was this tiny pink thing.
My very own sweetheart.
She was beautiful alright, but not the greatest sleeper. She wanted to nurse all night long, and it took some of the fun out of it if you know what I mean?
So I’d been doing this all-night party thing for several weeks when I started getting delirious. A little loco.
One night I found myself walking with her in circles until 2 am when finally . . . at last . . . got the baby darling to sleep. I gently tucked her in bed and quietly crawled in next to my sound-out husband.
And collapsed into a deep sleep.
For about 12 whole minutes.
That’s when I heard her soft cries starting up again.
I roused myself and leaned over the white, lacy crib and I, well, I kinda yelled.
Something like this: Ahhhhhhhhhhhh!!
When you get to “That Place”
My poor husband bolted upright in bed, immediately on high-alert. “What is going on here?!”
I stared at him wide-eyed—nearly as shocked as he was. Disbelief at what I’d done. Ashamed and embarrassed.
“I dunno, Honey. I guess I kinda . . . snapped.”
And so her daddy tenderly picked up our baby-doll and took over where I left off. But as he left the room, he gently admonished,
“Hey, don’t let yourself get in that place again, okay?”
Ah yes, That Place.
I can assure you that I never intended to “get there.”
Since then – four boys and four girls later – I’ve learned more about how to avoid getting to That Place and other ways to restore my soul.