Under One Blanket.
No strength left by night, and then, toward morning, a sleeping daughter stops the world – and hands it all back.
Bella writes this one from the middle of it – not from a memory of hard nights, but from inside them: feeding every hour, sleep taken away just as it deepens, no schedule of her own. She doesn't know how she keeps going. And then she tells you how.
The Stoics had a name for what she describes: Amor Fati – loving life not despite its hardships, but because of them. Not gritting your teeth through a season, not waiting for it to pass – wanting nothing to be different. When she says she won't hurry time and enjoys even these small hardships, that is the whole practice, done at 4am without a single philosophical word.
The proof is a moment under one blanket, toward morning. I'll let her describe it.
Yesterday my husband sat with our daughter for about half a day. Gave me a chance to catch my breath, lie around and so on.
In the evening he said: “How do you do this 24/7? I'm already out of strength.”
And I honestly don't know. Sometimes I feel like I can't take it anymore, like there's no strength left. Especially when you're feeding every hour at night – you've just sunk into deep sleep and you get pulled right out of it.
But then, toward morning, we're sleeping under one blanket, she turns on her side, tucks her little hands under her chubby cheeks, pouts her lips a little, and the whole world stands still. There's her and me. Maybe that's what gives the strength.
She's growing so fast, and despite the sleepless nights, the absence of a personal life, of my own schedule and my own little wants, I don't want to hurry time – I enjoy even these small hardships ☺️🤭🥰
P.S. Try setting an alarm for every hour of the night: I think after the second one you'll already be losing your mind 🤭 That's how it goes for us almost every night now. Hanging in there 🤣
Thank you for reading.
If her words reached somewhere mine don't – good. That's what this blog is for. Take what fits and leave the rest.
– Jan