*I wrote this when Ivy was 5 months old.
I had an Ivy experience that I wanted to write down. It’s something I think I’ll never forget, but still good to get it written to make sure I don’t forget the lesson from this experience.
One night I was with Ivy and doing her bedtime routine. I don’t usually do “Beth’s routine.” My routine is to rock Ivy to sleep with a bottle then lay her down. This night Beth asked me if I wanted to do what she normally did which was read to Ivy, then turn off the lights, rock her to sleep, and lay her down.
I started reading a book to Ivy and she was thoroughly enjoying it. She was curled up in my left arm as I rocked in the rocking chair and held the book up in front of her with my right hand. She would get a huge smile on her face every time I would emotionally read a portion of the story.
As I was reading, my left pocket started to vibrate. Normally I wouldn’t even consider answering a call at this moment. I had been making calls that week for my church calling. There were some people I needed to get a hold of, and it was important I talked to them. This all went through my mind as I held Ivy and weighed my options. I decided I didn’t know when I would get to speak to this person again and I needed to answer.
I jostled Ivy up a bit and got the phone out of my pocket. I believed it to be only a minor inconvenience to her. I answered the phone and began talking. I expected it to be only a minute or two conversation. As I was talking, Ivy got unsettled and started to fuss. I put the phone between my right ear and shoulder and got her into my lap in front of me. I started to bump her up and down to soothe her.
As I rocked her up and down, she got more content. When I was listening to the person speak on the other end, she even smiled and enjoyed the rocking. Then I started talking. When I talked to the person on the other end, for some reason Ivy got really unsettled.
This is the image I have in my head. When I would be talking into the phone she would curl her bottom lip over her top lip, her bottom lip would start to quiver, and she was the saddest looking baby I have ever seen. I’ve seen her do this once or twice before, but never so directly related to something I was doing.
This pattern repeated a couple times. I wouldn’t talk and she would smile and rock on my lap. I would start talking into the phone and she would get very upset and start to cry. The image I have in my mind is of betrayal. I don’t know if that’s what Ivy was actually thinking, probably not. But all I could think was, this was her time with me, and now I’m on the phone, and it’s upsetting her more than I’ve ever seen.
It broke my heart.
I got off the phone within 5 minutes but by that time the damage was done. I turned off the lights and tried to rock her which almost never fails but she was not having it. She was completely unhappy.
Beth took over and was able to settle Ivy down and put her to sleep.
I went outside to think.
Now, the reason I answered the phone wasn’t bad. I don’t think what I did was blatantly bad. My intentions were good.
As I sat outside, this is what I told myself. I got kind of bitter for a moment. Can’t I answer an important call related to my church calling? How can I be a productive and responsible member of my church if I don’t take those important calls? I was getting more upset. Then something hit me.
There were a lot of good things that I could have been doing at that time while I was with Ivy.
But, at that moment, there was nothing more important in the entire world than being with her.
I wasn’t bad because I wanted to fulfill my calling, answer the phone, help someone, fulfill my duties. Those were good intentions.
It didn’t matter.
While I was reading to Ivy, she was the most important thing in the world. Nothing else mattered. Whether or not she actually felt betrayed by me answering that call during our reading time (again, she probably didn’t), I did betray her. That was her time with me, and I took it from her.
I could have called that person back 15 minutes later and it would have been fine.
I learned an important lesson I hope I never forget that night. While there are a million good things to be doing, my daughter is the most important thing in the world. Especially in the precious and far-too-few moments I get with her, nothing else in the world should matter.
It was one of those cosmic-shift moments. One of those moments I realized would stay with me for the rest of my life. A moment I learned an extraordinarily important lesson from.
I’m grateful for that moment, and I hope to never cause that quiver of a lip ever again.
Reading back on this 4 years later and I think I still hold tight to that lesson learned. Just today someone told me about a celebrity who was asked if there was anything that made him jealous of other people. His reply was that he is jealous of anyone who still has kids at home.
One day my girls will grow up and I’ll miss the playing and the wrestling and the tickling and the screaming and the tantrums and the fighting. I try to remember that every day.
Now Ivy is almost 5 and Wren is how old Ivy was when I wrote this. Crazy.
No Coincidences 