Hanukkah

An image from the production "Diary of Anne Frank" came across my facebook feed today. I played Margot, Anne's older sister, in this particular show. The image features the menorah candles and also the music box Anne's father saved and kept for her mother as a gift when they were forced into hiding.

Today is the first day of Hanukkah. I am not Jewish, but there is a small part of me that feels as if I am. Margot became a part of my soul when I was privileged to portray her up in Brighton, Colorado. The hugeness of the story and what happened to the families in this story will never leave my heart.

During our intermissions, the audience as usual was allowed to get up, get a snack, stretch their legs. We, the actors, were not allowed to leave stage. This was hauntingly symbolic of the fact the Franks were not ever allowed to leave the Secret Annexe. The choice to keep us onstage for the entirety of the production was helpful in driving that point home (both to us and to the audience).

Anne and Margot singing for Hannukah

I was also privileged to sing with my stage sister, Sarah, two traditional Hanukkah prayers  (if you've ever heard her sing, you'll know how huge of an honor it was). This became one of my favorite scenes of the whole play. As I rehearsed and then performed the songs/prayers over and over, they too sunk deep into my soul and became part of me. So as I listened to them again today (more than a year after performing them), I got dangerously close to tears. When you play a part onstage (at least in my experience), it is not just "pretending" to be someone else. Who they are absorbs into your heart in a way that is inescapable. They sang these songs together as a family during their Hanukkahs in the Annexe, and we as actors sang them together and became a family of our own.

Love.

I am currently eating my breakfast (at a faster speed than I ever would have pre-Peanut) and thinking about what I should write about. Thinking about how people were right and that life, although certainly difficult at times, was less complicated while pregnant versus after she arrived.

Currently, at three months old, her naps average forty minutes and it's been almost that. I am waiting for her to wake up, both dreading it and looking forward to it.

You see, I've never loved anyone more in my life. She made her grand entrance on September 14th and immediately broke my heart into a million pieces, then put it back together again.

Lately, she's learning that she can use her voice and is babbling and cooing quite a bit, all the while staring into my eyes and smiling.

 She is learning that she can stretch out her tiny body and touch the end of the baby bath we put her in every couple days. 

She is sleeping through the night and yet also shortening her day naps. I'm not sure what I prefer actually-- I love the sleep during the night but now it's hard to get any chores done around the house.

People keep telling me to cherish and treasure these  fleeting moments while she's small, and I know why they do. It is hard having such a tiny thing totally dependent on me. I get scared I'm not doing the right thing, and the thought of  her being sad, hurt, or needy for anything makes my heart break even more (if that is even possible). The sheer amount of time spent meticulously caring for such a creature engulfs most of my time. That kind of responsibility can be draining and cause you to lose sight of the miracle that is laying right in your arms, staring up at you.

And so everyday I try to remember this advice. To not get caught up in the ordinary or stressful and think about the fact that time is going by so fast. I promised I'd never use this cliche, but... It really does seem like we just brought her home from the hospital.