As I finish nursing my newborn son, the door bell rings and my heart jumps with excitement—my best friend and her husband have come to visit. I have been home (or should I say- in my bedroom, attached to a nursing pillow) with my baby for three weeks now and crave adult company.
I quietly sneak out of my bedroom (the baby is finally asleep) to greet them. Before I have a chance to hug my friends, I hear the loud roar of my four year old son—Ilan. He has broken my seven –year- old Zachary's Lego ship (the one he has been working on for the past two hours). Zach throws a piece of Lego at Ilan, Ilan bites Zach, Zach bites him back, the nanny jumps in to the rescue, yelling at them in Russian, they scream back at her in English, entering the "who is louder" contest.
"Its OK. Come on in, guys," I say, catching my breath. "It's a normal evening in the Agranovichs' household." I try to be funny, but without success; they don't share my sense of humor. And they are right. It's not funny to a couple whose kids are older and who are used to enjoying calm evenings by the fireplace with a glass of sweet wine and a piece of dark chocolate.
My husband takes the kids to their room, getting them ready for bed. I sit down in the chair by the window to nurse the baby, slowly rocking back and forth. Quiet fills the bedroom, and I can't get enough of it. From my bedroom window I see hundreds of houses covering the hills. Glowing lights in their windows are dancing in the night, amongst the stars. I wonder: what are the people living in these homes doing with their lives? What struggles do they have, what challenges do they face? Are they happy to be where they are? My eyes lose focus and I fall into a dreamlike state, sinking deeper into the comfort of the chair. With my baby curled up on me, I am melting into his sweet warmness, as if I am near a cozy fireplace in the midst of a cold winter.
Zach and Ilan, both in their pajamas, rush into the room to say goodnight. I am so happy to see them, as if I have not seen them for days! Zach gives me a hug, kissing the baby. He asks if I want a massage (he knows my answer) and begins rubbing my neck as hard as he can with his little hands. Ilan quietly sits next to me, his soft curls touching my cheek, and I can smell the scent of cherry baby shampoo. With three boys, my sons, around me, I realize that there is nowhere else I would rather be than right here, in this rocking chair, filled with breathtaking gratitude for what I have been given and the devastating fear of losing even a bit of it. That there is nothing else I would rather do than nurse, burp, change diapers, clean up kids' messes, listen to their whining, handle their tantrums and understand my husband's fears and concerns on a day-to-day, around the clock, basis.
So what if I need to arrange babysitting to take a shower and I am overdue for a pedicure? So what if my business clothes have been replaced by nursing clothes? So what if I consider a trip to the grocery store with my husband the highlight of my week? And so what that I am no longer a busy doctor- I am just a mother? So what??
I accept my life for what it is, perfectly imperfect, and let myself fall madly in love with it, just like with my baby- from those impossible-to-handle sleepless nights to melting into his toothless smile. Only by living this life, my life, do I feel truly alive and on the edge, breathless from the contrast of feelings it brings.
That night I fell asleep with a light and joyful heart, knowing I would not mind getting up five times to feed and change my baby. That was the night when he actually slept a six hour stretch for the very first time!
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