Nap Time

My older kids, Bekah and Jeremy, don't nap as a general rule. On rare occasions, when they are whiny and cranky and overly emotional, I implore them to nap with me. 

It usually means a very late bedtime (it did tonight), so I only use it as a last resort. 

I have been honest in this blog about my struggle with depression. It's something that's waiting in the wings at all times, an understudy always scheming to throw over the principle actor. 

In my darkest moments, when all seems lost and a permanent exit seems the only viable option, days like today serve to pull me back from the door. 

We all got into my bed today (after rearranging the covers). Bekah snuggled up to me but Jeremy tried to wedge himself between me and her. She was not having it. The only solution was for me to sleep in the middle, flanked by each of them. 

Lying there between them I felt so loved. I see their faces light up when I enter the room. They fight over themselves to sit on my lap, to get my attention, to snuggle with me. It's enough, in those dark moments, to pry the icy hand of depression off of my forearm. 

I know it's different for everyone struggling with depression. I know my relationship with my kids will change. I know they will seem to want me less. I hope that the depression will grip me less in the coming years, though I know I'll fight it for a long time to come. 

In the meantime, I will continue to build memories with them that will make the icy grip less paralyzing.