His Hands

 I lay in my bed, quietly willing sleep to take over my body.

 One hour (come on body rest) ... two hours (only three more hours before you will be nursing).... finally sweet darkness.

Then an hour later, up tossing and turning, drifting in and out of somewhat a sleep state.

Adiah begins to cry. I go get him and nurse him back to sleep. 

I slowly walk back and get in bed, eyes wide open. 

*click, click, click, click*

Thank you Jesus, Ryan is home. 

He comes in wasted (and by wasted I mean drop dead tired from his night shift). 

We talk for a bit, but he crawls into bed and puts his arms around me and I instantly feel secure and safe and drift peacefully into sleep for the last two hours before my day has to begin. 

When I hear Adiah again, I longingly wish I could stay in his arms and sleep peacefully next to him.

I take his hand off my waist and tuck him back in. I kiss his forehead and close the door to begin my day. 

Night shifts as a med student are the worst. He hates them and they leave me disoriented and a lot of times, lonely. During the night, he is gone. During the day, although his presence is felt, he is soundly sleeping to recoup and do it all again. 

I try and fill my time with some outings, but at night I feel the loneliest.  

It is crazy to me how much I feel complete when he is near. 

Just his hand across my waist can ease me to blissful rest. 

 It makes perfect sense though, those are the hands that work hard each day for our family, those are the hands that hold our children, those are the hands that he held mine at the altar over five years ago as he said, "I do". Those hands give me protection and I love them... I love him. 

I am thankful to God for him.

This is a small section of time with schedules like this in the grand scheme of things. 

That I am most grateful for.