“I’m here, baby. You can sit with me,” not knowing or caring what time it was, the object simply being to just give him whatever he wants so we can all rest, principles left in the eye-grit of sleep.
“Daddy? Whatcha doomin?” as if most parents do any number of things in the dark in the middle of the night… I don't know, perhaps it was a valid question, but “Shh, baby, Daddy's sleeping. If you're going to stay in here, you have to be quiet and be still.” A whispered, “K,” answered from the dark.
We settled back down, somehow with Boy legs against my very large belly. Just as breathing becomes even and a mother’s hope rises, I feel the flops. “Mommy, was dat?” *Sigh* It had been one of those rare-at-this-point, hard sleeps. “That's the baby. He’s trying to sleep, too,” I hope, though I doubt his brother-in-utero really had much plans to that effect after having been awakened so early...or late, depending on which side of the clock you're on. “Shh...go to sleep.” Big brother settled back down; little brother did whatever he wanted.
And it was in that instant that my now-awake consciousness (it had been such a GOOD sleep) realized the beauty of motherhood encapsulated by that moment. The preciousness of snuggling my two boys in a way I soon will never again. The little boy wiggles, inside and out. The desperate clinging to some principle in the face of midnight requests for Mommy. The exhaustion...oh, the exhaustion (it had been SUCH a GOOD sleep). All rolled together into one shadow-hazed yawn of a soft mattress and warm blankets on a cold, winter night.
He tried. He really did. But an hour later, after a request of Mickey and, “I hungwy,” Mommy gave up. Between the three of us taking turns wiggling (I couldn't help it!), and waking the other two light sleepers up again, it just wasn't happening. Daddy sleeps hard, but his slumber can only take so much when faced with the wiggling elephant and her two offspring on the other side of the bed. So, based on the principle that he and I can't do this together much longer (that counts, right?), Mommy and the Boy snuck off for a little midnight (early morning?) snack and Mickey binging. Granmommy’s coming to play tomorrow (today). I’ll catch up on bedrest, then. If she’s lucky, maybe the Boy will, too.
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