One morning last week, I woke up in the wee hours of the morning to find baby crying uncontrollably. In my sleepiness I got up and walked over to the baby room where I found Carolyn looking exhausted and frustrated. I offered to take over and Carolyn went off to bed. As I attempted to soothe and calm my baby girl, I  found myself fighting wave after wave of exhaustion. Finally, after about an hour of cradling, singing, swaying and swaddling, she managed to fall asleep laying prostrate on my chest, as I lay on the bed in the baby room.

I was relieved, but tired, to say the least. I could have fallen asleep right then and there, but I feared completely falling asleep and then losing my grip on her. Or even worse, rolling over her or something. But I needed sleep. I figured I could just get up and put her in her crib, and then I could just head off to bed. Then I remembered the saying of many parents who have gone before us: "Cherish these moments with your kids. They grow up so fast and you'll never get these times back again". It's for this very reason that Carolyn decided she wanted to be a stay-at-home mom-- so that she doesn't miss out on things. And it's for that reason that I just stayed in that position, sleeplessly taking in this time when my daughter was only a month old.

Today I tried to work from home, but Chloe hasn't been sleeping well and has been crying uncontrollably throughout the day. I didn't get much work done. Most of my time has been spent once again trying to soothe her to sleep. In my heart I really wanted to complain about how hard this was. But I realized that even this was a fleeting moment, one that will be gone all too soon.

There will come a day when Chloe will not longer be a baby, but, God-willing, will grow up into a graceful and mature woman. In those days I may enjoy my time with her over coffee, talking about the latest happenings of the day, maybe go on a bike ride together, whatever the future might bring. In those days, I will reminisce on the former days when she was only a baby. 

For all our days pass away under your wrath; we bring our years to an end like a sigh. The years of our life are seventy, or even by reason of strength eighty; yet their span is but toil and trouble; they are soon gone, and we fly away. Who considers the power of your anger, and your wrath according to the fear of you? 

So teach us to number our days that we may get a heart of wisdom.