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Sitting high up in the corner above our deck, beautifully constructed on top an old speaker support, there is a nest. Inside the nest, there are some eggs. Atop those eggs, sprawls my sweet little Momma Dove.

This spring and summer alone, there have been two sets of babies that my sweet dove has laid, hatched and raised there. I’ve never had a dove before, only robins or cardinals who, if their babies are near, are crazy vocal and who like to dive-bomb you when all you want to do is pull some weeds or take out the trash. I thought something had to be wrong with the bird who just watched as we went about our business. She was so calm. The first time I noticed her, she was sitting on top of our six-foot privacy fence, watching. We are a raucous bunch, needless to say, and she just sat there. No movement, no noise. Just chill. And I fell in love with her as soon as I figured out that there were indeed BABIES in her nest and there was not a single thing wrong with her.

When I was six months pregnant with my twin daughters, I stopped sleeping. Full stop. I stared at the ceiling for nights on end with only the rarest relief of sleep. I now know that the reason for the insomnia was that (without a C-Pap machine, my husband snores his cutie little booty off) with my ADD and OCD, it was the ABSOLUTE TRAUMA AND ANXIETY (and fear) of having B. A. B. I. E. S. And, I was having TWO BABIES, Y’ALL!!! My brain, my nervous system, my psyche, my body, my EVERYTHING had zero chill and couldn’t calm down enough to sleep at all. I told my doctor, he put me on Ambien, I slept and slept, and there I sat, all fat and happy till.. when? About two years ago? I think, yes, when I took myself off of it. And, of course, all those who know and love me know that the struggle continues. I’m still medicated, just not Ambienly, and yes, come 10:00 pm, no matter what, my being completely loses its chill.

I deal. It’s in the Lord’s hands, and I usually sleep OK, but this is beside the point.

I’m so jealous of the dove’s momming skills. Mental acuity. Emotional maturity. Self confidence. Self assuredness. Her watchful eye, watching, but without the need to be all helicoptery, sharp with her tongue or a hot mess.

Her chill.

Her sweet little eyes, the way she sits fatly and all spread out, the way she calmly guards her babies against the world with nary a feather out of place.

Right now I only have ONE baby preparing to exit the nest and I’m living on the brink.

Her lovely morning call, hoohooHoo Hoo hooo hoooooo…

Could she possibly know that that’s the very corner where the big fat snake slithered it’s way into our kitchen?

What about Murphy who enjoys the mouth-feel of teeny critters… maybe one day, his chosen critter could be… a bird?

And I have BOYS! Machetes, BB guns, soccer balls, lawn mowers, weed eaters, archery practice!

I’d have a cold, the shingles, a kink in my neck, my face would be broken out, I’d need to remain in the fetal position singing Jesus Loves Me with a constant loop of baby animal videos playing and a beer in my hand, and I’d have to have all my babies RIGHT NEXT TO ME, too, so nix the beer but enter a Complete. Emotional. Collapse.

(Well…maybe not THAT bad but did I ever mention to you that Murphy is a trained emotional support dog? Not even lying.)

But not her. She just watches over her babies as if she’s a well-practiced yogi who eats pot brownies and lives on the beach.  


To be that dove.

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