Hi there!

Well... Here I am. I was so busy over my Christmas break that I had no time or thoughts of writing. After almost a month of no writing, this idea popped into my head. It's been too long, and I missed this terribly. But nevertheless, I couldn't stay away forever.

Enjoy!

Two AM.

I'm jolted from my sleep, the post-partum nightmares wrecking any ounce of rest I've had since having her. Being a cop isn't all it's cracked up to be; especially when you have children. The overwhelming amount of negatively I've experienced in the field floods my visions every night, reminding me how dangerous it is to raise a child in this world. It's not safe. It probably never will be, but that's the risk we were willing to take when we decided we wanted one of our own.

Even when I discovered I was carrying her, that very first night my sleep was disrupted by the awful things I've seen, the criminal acts I've had to face, and the disgusting things I've had to do. I would wake up screaming, terrified that something like my nightmares could really happen to my child.

I sit in bed, the sheets twisted around my midsection making it hard for me to breathe. She's no longer inside of me, my flat stomach so different from the swollen bulge that kicked every time I ate pickles. This almost taboo normalcy of my appearance reminds me that she is no longer safe inside me. That she is vulnerable and it is my job to keep her safe. I feel a cold sweat on the back of my neck as a shaky breath releases from my lips.

I'm alone in our bed. There's a soft indentation of where his body should be laying, his pillows shoved up against the headboard. I slip from the grasp of the sheets, my toes hitting the floor. The cool, solidity of the hard wood calming my midnight worries, the flush in my cheeks slowly diminishing.

I pad as softly as I can into the next room where I can hear the soft moan of the rocking chair swaying to and fro. I watch from a distance as he holds her, so small and fragile in his big, strong arms. He's as quiet as a mouse as he looks down at her, his face in a content grin as she sleeps so peacefully, her little hands in fists at her head. I know he does this every so often, sneaks in and holds her in the dead of night, whispers secrets to her, but it's the first time I've ever caught him.

Still, I watch from the shadows, not wanting to disturb them. As I watch, though, I am struck with an overwhelming calmness, one that reverses my fears and mellows my mind. It's those little, tiny hands, and perfect, angelic face that completely erase my reservations.

Yes, this totally messed up world is scary and hellish, and no moment here is guaranteed or completely safe. But having such a horrific mentality is what will do you in. Those countless moments as Detective are nothing compared to the joy that my little girl and husband bring to me.

It's the moments in the kitchen after dinner when we're both feeling good after half a bottle of wine. It's the moments in the morning, a silent kiss on the forehead as we both drag ourselves away from the mattress before the coffee has been brewed. It's the midday, How are things? when an extra-long breath and frustrated grimace flashes across one of our faces at work. It's the dancing in the living room at noon on a Saturday because why not? And it's the silent conversations in the dead of night that are nothing more than a stroke of an arm or a flip of a lock of hair.

And now, it's the moment that my daughter opens her eyes each morning, intrigued by the things around her. It's the moments when she smiles so big I cry because I have truly never seen anything more beautiful. It's when she cries in the dead of night and I fly down the hall as fast as I can; only wanting to fulfill my duty to keep her happy. It's when those around me shower me with compliments on my precious little one and I blush, trying to hide how giddy it makes me. It's when I'm sitting with her in my arms, singing to her just like her grandmother would have, just like my mother did for me.

It's these moments that make me step back from my livelihood and remind me why I'm here. I'm here to raise this tiny, innocent person into the best possible one she can be. I'm supposed to teach her how to write her name and tie her shoes. I'm supposed to celebrate her life each year and make her holidays as magical as possible. It's my job to teach her right from wrong and send her off into the world at the ripe old age of five to experience and learn and try and fail and succeed. Eventually I'll teach her how to drive. And then help pick out the perfect dress for her senior prom. I'll have to teach her about what it means to be heartbroken and move on and then find someone who loves you unconditionally and who will keep her best interest in mine as she should do for him. And then, when I'm old, I will watch her walk down the aisle and raise her children and make a life for herself and her family in hopes that I did my job the very best I could.

And it's these thoughts and realizations that remind me why I'm here. As I stand in the doorway of the nursery, watching my husband hold our tiny girl in the moonlight, I realized that it's all worth it.

So as I stand in the shadows at two AM, I take a deep breath and thank God for giving me the opportunity to be a mom. For stealing away my reservations and showing me the joys I was missing out on. Any previous fears gone from my mind, I step into the room and tiptoe as quietly as I can over to my family. He looks up and smiles at me as I caress his cheek and find his lips. Then, I look down at our tiny girl in his arms and smile along with him. What I'm feeling is far past bliss, it's long gone from content. It is indescribable. I have truly never been in a better place in my life; and I'm completely in love with this feeling.

Please review!

xoxo