Delicate Veins

by Patti

S has been in life for 4,049 days. And of those 4,049 days, it seems that 3,832 have consisted of her waking up in the night screaming for me for one reason or another.  The other night was one of those nights. "MO-OM! MY NOSE IS BLEEDING!"

Bleary-eyed and feeling rather put-upon, I shuffled to the bathroom and fumbled with the toilet paper dispenser. I knew she would need a whole roll. She has this thing about blowing her nose more than once into a tissue. That child has murdered a million trees during her short time on earth  -- all in the name of snot.

S is prone to nosebleeds.  The doctor says she has "delicate veins". I imagine them in her nose, fanning themselves with lacey victorian fans, coping with the vapors that inevitably come with being so delicate.

Those delicate veins? Are most inconsiderate. With the change of the weather always come the nosebleeds: In the car when I am fresh out of napkins and going 70 miles per hour on the highway. At school where the nurse fawns over her, "tsk"ing away those inconsiderate veins. And most often of all, at night, deep into the night, between the hours of 2-4 am. Nice goin', veins.

And it is always I that gets up (because it is always me she yells for) to comfort her, to tame those veins, to keep handing to her yet another fresh piece of toilet paper because god forbid she should have to blow into one more than once. And as she lays back, her eyes beady from exhaustion, to try to stop the blood, I notice the smoothness of her forehead, and I remember....

I remember studying that same forehead between the hours of 2 and 4 am when she was new to me. She woke me every night for milk, and I would cradle her while she nursed and study the tiny little veins that were so exquisitely scrawled across her forehead and temples. They were so... perfect. They work, I would whisper to myself in full wonder. This little creature that came out of me actually worked. Life was running through her, and it just blew me away.

And on this 3,832nd night that I was awake when I shouldn't be, I handed my daughter another piece of toilet paper and knew that I was doing so because life is running through her, and because of her, through me.

Happy Mother's Day to all the put-upon mothers in this world. 

You know you wouldn't have it any other way.