Mooreover / Blog

I’ve heard people describe the birth of their child as a pivotal moment - a paradox of revelations regarding the fragility of life and the abundance of hope, of a time warp in maturation and a recollection of an innocence. The realization of my life never being the same didn’t come with Selah’s birth, but in the memory of my own.

I turned 31 today, and had the luxury of seeing most of this day dawn. After a couple of weeks off, Kami returned to work on the 2nd, which meant that I had the night shift with Selah since the 1st. Selah hasn’t been sleeping well since her birthday - due mostly to teething and various bouts of illness. Lately we’ve all been staving off a cold, but Selah has had a fever that’s pretty relentless. I spent Tuesday night in the recliner with Selah splayed out across my chest - feeding her ice chips and trying to soothe her when she would awaken in discomfort. When her fever broke Wednesday afternoon, I was hopeful that I might get a good night’s rest, and awaken to a child healthy enough to take to our babysitter so that I might squeeze in a workout or a movie on my birthday.

Not so much. I thought that Selah was feeling better, so we spent the first part of the night embattled - Selah wanting another night being held, her dad not wanting to encourage a nightly dependance. After 1:30am I began to worry that Kami wouldn’t get a solid night’s rest before a day of work, so I finally relented and took Selah into the living room. Selah was wide awake from 2-4am, playing and smiling and being all-around-cute in general - a lot of which was lost on her zombie of a father.

Birthdays were kind of a big deal in my family - we didn’t get a lot of gifts or surprises throughout the year, but my parents were very generous on our birthdays and Christmas. This was especially true of my birthday - situated so close to Christmas, my parents were always sure to treat my birthday as a separate event, and not a continuation of the holiday. I was reflecting on this this morning - reflecting on birthdays past, which was greeted after a full night’s rest with a full expectation of selfish indulgences to come.

The realization of my role as parent didn’t wash over me softly like falling balloons and confetti at my daughter’s birth - but instead it’s full weight came bearing down on me at 4am sixteen months later, when Selah’s fever returned, and fears for her health and well-being expunged any selfish expectations I had reserved for January 3rd.

My sacrifices are only just beginning - which means that I’ll only become more bearable as I age. You all can thank Selah for this gift from me to you