Mom’s Memory & Dad’s Presence

Last week I was at my family’s houseboat with my 10 month old daughter and it was HOT! Amanda-pre-baby would have been SO excited that I was up there during a heat wave, but present-day-Amanda-with-baby was not at all excited. Heat waves with a baby mean an absurd amount of sunscreen, multiple fans running from all directions, and a lot of stress. Did she drink enough water? How long since I last applied her sunscreen? And the biggest question is all: is she going to be able to fall asleep in this heat, stay asleep, and stay cool enough while she sleeps?

This was the second time we had been at the houseboat during a heatwave this summer, and my second time absolutely dreading sleep time. Each nap, but especially bed time, was difficult. Unfortunately, Charlee still requires support to fall asleep, which means my body heat plus her body heat equals a very sticky, sweaty mess. 

One particular night, I was REALLY struggling to get her to fall asleep. We were both hot, she was over tired, I was irritable, and I was losing it. She was over an hour late for her normally very routine bedtime. I got to the point of giving up. I was crying, wishing she would stop fighting me and drift off to sleep. I was texting my dad from the building I was in, saying I wanted to go home, and I couldn’t do it any more.

I was surprised when my dad asked if I wanted one of them to come in - him or his girlfriend. I was desperate, so I said yes, please. He asked me “who do you want” and I said I didn’t care. 

In my head, I was desperately missing my mom. In those moments, I was thinking about how I knew my mom would have been there with me. Not just because of the heat, either. Because she’d have wanted to be part of bed time, reading books to Charlee and getting some pre-sleep snuggles. But especially when I was struggling, I knew she would have been there with me taking a turn so I could have a break.

As these thoughts were running through my mind, Dad opened the door. I was so grateful that back up had arrived. He picked Charlee up from her crib and started talking to her, comforting her, and rocking her. I knew he wasn’t going to be able to get her to sleep because he was talking in his regular voice, not a whisper, and his bounce was faster and rougher than the slow, gentle, rhythm she was used to- but I was still grateful. I knew she was being looked after and comforted while I took a few minutes to calm myself down, stand in front of the fan to cool off, and convince myself that I could do it. 

After a few minutes, I took Charlee back from Dad. She sank into my arms and was finally no longer resisting my hold. She fell asleep almost instantly, nuzzled into my neck. 

As I slowly and gently rocked her, my dad sat behind me, rubbing my back, just like he did when I was little and needed comforting. The small gesture was so appreciated.

Once Charlee was asleep, I transferred her to her crib, and Dad and I left the building. As I walked out, I thought about how much I had been missing my mom, but also how much I appreciated my dad for showing up for me in that moment. 

And then I saw it. The swan! The swan that I have taken as a sign of my mom visiting me ever since she passed away.

According to my Dad, it was the first time the swan had visited our island this summer, and it felt to me like a sign that my mom’s spirit was near. 

I wrote about the swans and my mom’s love for them a few years ago, and you can read about it here. There used to be 2 swans, but apparently one has passed away. I know my mom would be saddened by that news. She loved them so much, always impressed by their beauty and the way they so effortlessly glide across the water.

I was grateful for a visit from my mom’s memory, and for my dad’s presence during one of my most difficult parenting moments thus far. I ended up going home the next day, because I didn’t want to face another bedtime battle in the heat, but I left knowing that I could do it, that I was supported, and that even in moments where I miss my mom the most, love showed up in unexpected ways.