You can read more about the song here.
I got acquainted with the song some years back, when it was featured in one of the heart-rending films that I was so engrossed in then. (I guess I won't name it here.) Non, je ne regrette rien returns to play in my head once in a while, whenever I start to feel sorry for myself in one way or another. And my pity parties bore and vex my guests to death.
It has been playing on and off the past few days.
Yesterday, it played while I was trying to get my co-sleeping toddler to fall asleep. She had spent the past hour trying to climb onto our bed's headboard and emulate Nadia Comaneci on the balance beam in 1976. Whenever I removed her from her hold, she would balk and protest, like I was the world's meanest spectator. Subsequently, she would try to mount the headboard again. (Of note, I don't know why toddlers misbehave when they go past their bedtime - we were out late last night.) This went on and on and on until the exhausted toddler, suddenly burst into tears and threw up violently on our bed. We consoled her, cleaned us up, and then Ben put her to bed instead of me. This time, she fell asleep almost immediately. I should have been thankful and relieved, and I think I was to a certain extent, but I was also upset.
First, it was slightly past midnight. I hadn't showered, there was church the next morning, and my side of the bed smelled faintly of puke even after cleaning.
Secondly, I was very embarrassed (and resentful that I felt that way). What would my in-laws think of me? Some useless, half-baked, idiotic mother, incapable of controlling her kid. She should have known better. Why let the kid climb onto the headboard? Oh, and our poor, precious grand-daughter cried till she puked. The end. That was, I believe, my low self-esteem.
Thirdly, I resented my husband for reaping what I had sown. Haha. I didn't like him looking so happy and triumphant tucking a sleeping Sophie into bed. There I was, smelling of puke and sweat. He should have shared my sufferings a little more. (To be fair, he did enter the room while I was wrestling with the little gymnast to see if I needed help - but I was too proud to let him, and shooed him out.)
It was very personal. I showered with hot tears streaming down my face. Felt like a failure. And then, I felt even more horrible for doubting that God had heard my cries for help throughout the entire ordeal. Confessing that I had probably not reacted well to the incident, I prayed that He would give me sign that He was still near.
He graciously did.
It was Day 2 of Sophie's current episode of running nose. Running nose always means nasal congestion at night and sleep disturbances for our little girl - at least for a bad few nights, up to a week.
I prayed that He would keep her nasal passages unblocked throughout the night so that she (and we) could sleep well. He did! And her nose hardly ran today. It is only Day 3. What a miracle!
The things He shows us when we ask, even with faith as small as a mustard seed.
Today, I put Sophie to bed feeling extra thankful that I could be there with her when she needed me - even when she struggled to fall asleep. (I think somebody ought to do something about our balance-beam-like headboard though.) She won't stay a toddler forever. This season will pass. I hope that Non, je ne regrette rien will evoke heaps of feel-good nolstalgia when I look back on today in the future.
Still loving you, Sophie. If I could choose again, I would still choose you.
And I'm not giving up.
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