When Danny and Kaylee were first born, I had a cell phone, but it was minimal. No texting and certainly no internet surfing capabilities or facebook. In fact, when Danny was a baby I didn't even have a facebook account. Abby Jo has arrived and I am embarrassed at how often she must compete with the draw of my smart phone. I'm nursing her, so I check facebook or pinterest or email on my phone. She won't notice or care, will she? She starts getting smiley so I immediately try to Facetime with grandparents so they can see the smiles or I pull out my phone and try to shoot some pictures and capture the smiles. Her smiles disappear as I wedge a device between her face and mine, confused at where the familiar face went. At least it used to disappear, but lately she seems to be more accustomed to it and will keep smiling. And that's what has me worried.
How many moments have I already missed trying to respond to a text instead of watching her sleep in the crook of my arm? Am I going to remember the pin I pinned on pinterest more than I remember her bright eyes looking up at me? Her new innocence has opened my eyes to how often I let my phone distract me from what matters most. Danny is talking again about a video game or TV show that I just don't care that much about. So I tune out and look up something more interesting on my phone. Kaylee and I are playing My Little Ponies, but my phone beeps and I'm suddenly involved in a more important text conversation. Abby Jo is contentedly nuzzled up to me, dozing, so I start catching up on friends in faraway places who I will probably never actually meet again in person. And another moment, one that matters most, is lost.
The other night after her 2 month check-up and a couple shots, Abby was particularly fussy. I finally was able to settle her down after a clean diaper. She was lying on her tummy on her pink changing pad with a bright yellow long sleeved onesie. I had been considering getting PJs on her, but she quieted down before getting the onesie off and I didn't want to disturb her. She was peaceful lying on her tummy with my hand gently patting her back. She found her hand to suck on and dozed off. I reached for my phone to pass the time, but thought I'd left it in the kitchen. When I tried to move away, she startled, so I patted and patted and patted. Soon she was sleeping peacefully. So again I thought of my phone, but it wasn't where I thought it should be. I told myself to just be there. Be present in the moment right then. I looked at her soft, dark hair, reflecting on how different it was then the fluffy almost white hair Danny and Kaylee had. Her perfect little hand, now tucked under her chin. Her gentle, rhythmic breathing calmed me. I went on my knees by her changing table, tired from bending over her for so long, but kept patting her back. Soon I tuned in to other sounds in the house. Matt was tucking in Danny and Kaylee. I could hear him giving instructions about teeth and toy cleanup. I heard them pray together. Kaylee giggled as she climbed up to the top bunk. I could hear their excitement as Matt began telling them a Minetropolis story, his special bedtime routine, and let them add in the details. My exhaustion from our long day settled in, but I didn't dare move Abby, who was finally slumbering deeply. I picked up her changing pad and moved her to the ground, then lay down next to her and continued patting away. By now she probably would have been fine if I had left her to sleep, but I no longer wanted to leave. I wanted to be here, just the two of us together, listening to the sounds of storytelling and giggling and bedtime snuggles from the room next door. As I settled down on the ground, the nursing Boppy as my pillow, I felt something in my pocket. My phone. I instinctively started to reach for it, but then set it away out of reach. This time I decided I would not miss the moment.
