My daughter is asleep right now. She is going on three hours of nap. Which means at any second she is going to wake up.
I miss her. I am acutely and completely full of a longing to have her in my arms, curled up against my chest, my head in her hair.
And I am at the exact same moment completely full of gratitude for this time by myself, of a sense of relief for the quiet provided by this nap, and a slight but perceivable sense of dread of that moment when she is about to wake up.
I am consumed by this contradiction. I am full of the complete nonsense of it. Of the longing and the dread, of the need to both be with her and not be with her.
I dream of date nights with my husband, of nights out with friends, of long chunks of time in which to take classes, go to writing workshops, sit in silence and stare at a wall.
And I start to hyperventilate a little at the thought of being away from her.
I am shaken to my core by the wanting, by the cognitive dissonance of my desires, by my inability to reconcile the different needs. Because I want both the separateness and the togetherness, and I want them both ALL THE TIME.
There isn't a solution. There is only the saying out loud of it. And in the moment of a nap not-quite-over, all I can do is sit with the contradictions and believe that knowing this is enough.