Today I’m snatching a few moments to write while my precious six-day-old newborn sleeps on a Boppy on my lap. Her little body is warm against me. I hear her gentle breathing while her little hands move, accompanied by the occasional sucking motion of her lips. The flicker of an oblivious sleep-smile crosses her face, and I have to stop and watch, take it in, because, no matter how devoted to writing, we moms are always more devoted to our babies, no matter their ages.
And it strikes me: this is the essence of a stay-at-home-mom writer. We fit in the writing how and when we can, with kids dancing around us, tugging at us, yelling for this or that, watching TV contentedly, or sleeping peacefully. However we do it, we write with the awareness and readiness to drop it all for our higher calling of motherhood.
Not that we always do so willingly or graciously. Sometimes we go complaining and whining ourselves, because, let’s be honest, the call of the written word is strong and sometimes addicting.
With the bleary, weary, sleepy-brain of newborn motherhood, perhaps none of this makes sense. In any case, at least I fit in a little writing today. But now I have to go and put on a movie for my other two children. Then, just perhaps, I’ll fit in a needed nap.
Or, I could write some more . . .