Teething by candlelight

People always talk about childbirth as this horrendous, awful thing. And maybe I really am suffering from that wonderful birth amnesia, but I would posit that there is something far worse than childbirth: Teething.

Obviously, I’m not experiencing physical pain. But dealing with a baby who is absolutely miserable, and you are helpless to aid, is a test of sanity and drive like no other. Particularly when the misery involves fever and an inability to sleep. Let’s just say I’m not all sweetness and roses and patience after 2 days of not sleeping. ;) In some sense, perhaps teething is helping Evan on his journey to sainthood?

It was a rough weekend, the kind where you look at each other and say “WE want kids, we WANT kids, we want KIDS!” Or at least some similar high school cheer to lift your spirits. Going back and forth between complete frustration and giggle fits from lack of sleep is a special kind of bonding experience. We were both amazed at how much closer we felt after 3 days of consistently canceled plans, no sleep, and many failed attempts to try something other than hang out in our living room. Hanging out in the Urgent care for 2 hours consoling a baby with a rather uncomfortable apparatus attached wasn’t exactly the change of pace we’d been hoping for. We both felt a newfound sense of camaraderie after the battle, though.

There was one canceled plan that had an unintended good side, however. I was supposed to sing with the choir at the 5:30pm mass, but since we still had mystery fever at that point, we decided we needed to split up and keep the baby at home. Evan went to 5:30 in my place because she decided not to nap and just wanted mommy, and thankfully, she went to bed by 8:45 and I was able to slip out to the 9pm candlelight mass.

Upon entering the church, I was immediately taken back to so many wonderful high school and college experiences of late night worship. Perhaps it was the exhaustion of my weekend, but 9pm mass felt like a 6am mass after an all night lock-in. The dark church, lit by a combination of dimmed lights and candles, was breathtaking. I picked a seat close to the front, which I haven’t done in a long time, and immersed myself into the blissful silence. My unintended candlelit date with my Lord and Savior was exactly what I didn’t realized I needed, more than anything.

Things weren’t immediately “fixed,” but I felt a similar newfound sense of camaraderie. If Jesus is for us, who can be against us, right? Even if what you’re fighting against is a tiny (and adorable) tooth viciously cutting its way through a baby's gums.