Friday, August 12, 2011


You've had weeks that were just a blur, haven't you? Weeks so filled up with whatnot and whosit that you didn't know which way was up, and Saturday arrived before Wednesday?

This is one of those weeks. Today is Friday, and I needed iCal to remind me. I forgot about Friday, people. I think it's because I'm in a


With my Baby Princess Girl, the sweetest, bravest little thing you ever laid eyes on.

The Royal Princess whose blue eyes are squinted out under a puffy rash the size of her thumbs,
Whose arms are full of bruises. And spots -- 
And an IV.

An IV in my baby? Yes.
Even while everything inside me screamed, "NO! NONONONO!" I held her arms tight so the nurses could quickly, mercifully give her a lifeline to hydration.

I did it. And it was awful and terrible and by far my least favorite thing ever.

But today as I sat by her bed in the stark loneliness of a hospital dawn, something strange happened. Suddenly, all the world shrank down to just Princess and me - just the still form of a too-small frame in a too-big bed. . . and her mother, desperate for connection with her.

In that moment, Zimbabwe disappeared, and so did France. Colorado no longer existed, any more than the moon in the sky or the ant on the ground. Everything vanished except
Her, and
Me, and all the heart-string connection that makes up

And it made me think that every moment is like that really, just you and something - or you and someone.

But we miss it. We miss those together moments, those connection moments, because we're so busy worrying about the what's-next moments.

I'm so busy working and mommy-ing and wife-ing and whatnot-ing, that I haven't been living in those moments -- stopping right smack in the split second of connection, enjoying this step-by-step journey with the ones I love best. And it's a shame really, because isn't life just moments?

How did I miss this 'til today? What is it about a hospital bed that brought it all into focus? Connection, and moments, and living - really living - alongside each other. Being with one another, full attention fixed hard on that one moment of connection.

Why do I want that so badly, when part of my very soul has slept most of the day, unable to reciprocate?

I'm wrecked by this tonight; it's all I can think about, all I can think to say.
For now, I'm off to sit and stare, and do all I can to connect with this tiny Princess Girl.
And I dare you to do the same tonight. You can connect, right now.
Or at least, I dare you to try. 



  1. Oh, sweetheart, this all just makes me cry and then smile. We love you all so very much. Please know that you will always be my Little Princess. Much love, MOM

  2. Becki please know that you and your family are in my thoughts and prayers. I so enjoyed reading your blog. My prayer is that Little Princess will be well soon. Love, Joy Gumbert (from Homemakers)

  3. I knew your husband in high school. Always liked and respected him. :o)

    My heart aches for you and your family right now. I pray that your daughter gets better soon and quickly. You are all in my thoughts.