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Thursday, October 11, 2012

31 days: Decoded Grunts

My head feels heavy as I lean back, the front parts of my neck straining against the stretch.
I practice what I learned months ago, preparing for my birth, deep breaths from my stomach to my toes and relaxing.

My baby is waking up.  I hear his little noises seeping under his door all the way down to the living room and they sit in front of me, waiting.
And I wait, too.

My thoughts feel just as coherent as the grunts my son makes from his crib, alerting me.

I'm somehow trying to formulate a prayer, though my tongue and my grain are not up to the task.

I close my eyes, and I sit, and I thank Him from somewhere inside for moments.  For breath.  For His understanding my needs and decoding my grunts and my mumbles and for filling me up.

There's an emptiness that comes with being fully taken from, needed moment to moment.

And there's a fullness that you would never know if you didn't experience the emptiness.  It's a chance to be given to, to be fed and held and Fathered.