in the darkness

When I hear her cry out over the monitor in the quiet of the night, the tiredness can be so oppressive that it holds me in bed for an extra moment or two. I even find myself saying, "Shhh, shhh, shhh, Gwenie. It's okay." under my breath. Sometimes that's all she needs (the time... not my whisper from three rooms away!), and she drifts back off. When she doesn't though, I slide out of bed, slip on my PJ pants, flip off the monitor, and grab my sweater from the door handle as I pass by - slipping it on as I stumble down the hallway. I can do it all with my eyes closed. I have done it all with my eyes closed.

I'm so tired, but when I scoop her up from her crib, her weight is comforting. She's so small, my babe, but so big compared to what she was; head on my shoulder and feet hanging down past my thighs. Already our nights are changing. We don't nurse in the night anymore. We say goodnight to "milkie" after nursing before bed, before she gets into her crib, and don't nurse again until she comes to bed with us in the morning for our snuggle/sleep time. So comfort now - in the rarer and rarer occasions when needed - is in the form of mama's arms holding her tight while I stand, rocking back and forth, in the calm of the night.

I'm always eager to get back to bed, of course. Morning comes so quickly, sleep is so fleeting. But in the darkness, I can hold my growing girl and comfort her just by being close. There is something magic in that.

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