Heightens each sensation

"Nighttime sharpens, heightens each sensation! Darkness wakes, stirs imagination..." ran through my head for the seventh time that evening as I held a restless little man in the wee hours of the morning.

My favorite musical is Phantom of the Opera. If I knew how to sing well I would have played Christine in a heartbeat (or even Meg) in theaters all across the globe. Seeing as in high school show choir I loved the stage, the music, the energy, and the dancing, but God help us all if I would have actually let out more than a low mumble with a mic pinned to my sequined number, I relegate singing to the shower, car, and into my babies ears the nights they cannot sleep.

Thoughts about our future raced through my head - the mundane ones like if I had missed out on registration for Vacation Bible School for Zoe to the real issues that can wake you from a deep sleep covered in sweat unable to catch your breath. Xander was my rock, my comfort, and I his. Even as my weary knees tried to give out after lap 1,239 around the first floor while simutaniously trying to rock, bop, and pat a child into sleep, I realized how fortunate I am to be a mom and have a perfectly healthy little man in my arms, comforted solely by my presence.

Xander wasn't supposed to be here. Not like, he should be in his crib at 2am, but actually not supposed to be alive and a part of this world.

Almost nineteen weeks along in my second pregnancy, I peed my pants as I picked up my new one year old out of her crib. We said good mornings and I joked with her that maybe mommy should be the one getting a diaper change! After she was wiped and dried I went to do the same - if you've ever been pregnant, you'll understand that it is almost blase when you pee your pants when you are with child.

Something just didn't seem right as I stood in the bathroom and being the slightly neurotic mom I am, I knew I should call the OB/Gyn, just in case.

After what felt like an hour the elevator music stopped and a live person chirped into my ear, "Good Morning, OB office. How may I direct your call?" I explained I had a serious incontinence situation earlier and I'd love to leave a message for my OB to call back and maybe give some pointers as to how to keep this from happening again.

As we were talking, I peed again and even said, "Yep, this is definitely something I could use her help with!" We laughed, I threw on a pad, and Zo and I went out the door to her pediatrician's office, as her miserable cough sounded bad enough to warrant a trip to Dr. Wonderful's office.

Dr. Wonderful is the pediatrician people would pay triple to have in their child's life. She listens, engages, and is thorough without making you feel like your child not growing the recommended inch for that time period does not mean they are a dwarf. Momma's, you know what I mean.

Dr. W was asking if we'd started talking about the big change coming into our lives in March, and I said something about well, at this point she just thinks it's either produce (a watermelon) or a beach ball, so we haven't gotten that far. Then laughing, I mentioned we'd have to talk about it sooner than later because Momma may be the one needing potty training.

Zoe ended up needing chest X-rays, as my baby was showing signs of pneumonia. While she was getting her scans, I peed again. And again. I mentioned it to Dr. W, as surely she may have some suggestions for retraining continence and she said, "GO TO THE ER NOW!"

No one had to tell me twice. Zoe and I called Mr., he met us there, switched me cars, and I went into the maternity ward not sure what they could do - maybe give me some pills to soak up excess water in my gut? Who knew?

As it turns out, just shy of my fifth month, my water broke. Xander's amniotic sac was leaking amniotic fluid at a rapid and dangerous rate. As Mr. and I learned we had less than 1% chance of having this baby, and less than 1% of 1% that the baby would ever be a typical-developing child, I sat in a dark hospital room listening to all the horrors and fears that would consume my every waking minute for the next few months.

The one lesson that truly sank in during the darkest hours of my life is that sometimes, just sometimes, you need to just listen to the music of the night.