The Middle of the Night Memories
Some nights I want my daughter to cry out for me, to snuggle, and to nestle in my arms or along my chest for some comfort. Some nights I yearn for her to "need" me. And other nights, I'd give up almost anything for her to not want me. Which has been almost every night this week, but tonight.
The night she is finally getting back to her normal self, cold finally winding down, and feverishness gone... she is asleep. Deep into baby dreamland and seemingly far, far away from me. And at this moment, I'd love for her to cry for me. So I could hold her. Smell her soft skin, and nestle her fine hair against my chin. I need to hold her.
My son now has this nasty cold. The one, I too am battling with tissue and endless amounts of Tylenol in hopes it keeps the fever at bay. But my son has a harder battle--his asthma is wanting to kick in. We've done a few breathing treatments and I'm waiting to hear him cough from his bedroom. The endless tickle that won't go away--and thus has his gasping for breath. I know that by 4am it is likely I'll be up with him for another breathing treatment, of if I am lucky just a puff of his inhaler.
The need to hold him is different now. Not so long ago, I had the same urges with him--the snuggles, the nestling, and of course the hugs only a mom and son can enjoy. But now that he is older they have changed. Sure, this morning, he ever-so gently climbed into bed after his Dad left for work and snuggled with me. The first time in over 6 months. He even dozed back into sleep for a short time. Until the baby started crying. It was nice. But not the same. He's suddenly a boy. A lanky five-year-old boy that doesn't have the fine dewy hair. Or the baby smell. Or the same snuggles he had when he was a wee thing. And, pitifully, I miss the baby version of him. Where did the time go?
We've (as in the husband and I) have been giving The Kiddo major props for "being a big boy." He's slept through the night in his room for a week now. Promises of treats at Build a Bear abound... but yet, never fails at 4am (or thereabouts) I wander down the hall to listen for him in his room. For his even breaths. His tossing and turning. For his sense of being. I do miss him coming to our room. Even for these new snuggles. And even the jabs in the leg or arm that came with his sudden new height. But, I knew--even before The Peanut's arrival--he'd eventually move to his room. And it seems he has. For the most part.
So, now, I have The Peanut. And all her baby goodness. I'm worried that come 4 years from now, I will lose all memory of her middle of the night snuggles too. Of her soft hand on my cheek or arm. Of those nose to arm nestles that she does to wake me to nurse. It's all so precious. And the first time around, I don't think I realized just how precious it was. Now that I know, I'm not sure I want to give it up so easily.
The night she is finally getting back to her normal self, cold finally winding down, and feverishness gone... she is asleep. Deep into baby dreamland and seemingly far, far away from me. And at this moment, I'd love for her to cry for me. So I could hold her. Smell her soft skin, and nestle her fine hair against my chin. I need to hold her.
My son now has this nasty cold. The one, I too am battling with tissue and endless amounts of Tylenol in hopes it keeps the fever at bay. But my son has a harder battle--his asthma is wanting to kick in. We've done a few breathing treatments and I'm waiting to hear him cough from his bedroom. The endless tickle that won't go away--and thus has his gasping for breath. I know that by 4am it is likely I'll be up with him for another breathing treatment, of if I am lucky just a puff of his inhaler.
The need to hold him is different now. Not so long ago, I had the same urges with him--the snuggles, the nestling, and of course the hugs only a mom and son can enjoy. But now that he is older they have changed. Sure, this morning, he ever-so gently climbed into bed after his Dad left for work and snuggled with me. The first time in over 6 months. He even dozed back into sleep for a short time. Until the baby started crying. It was nice. But not the same. He's suddenly a boy. A lanky five-year-old boy that doesn't have the fine dewy hair. Or the baby smell. Or the same snuggles he had when he was a wee thing. And, pitifully, I miss the baby version of him. Where did the time go?
We've (as in the husband and I) have been giving The Kiddo major props for "being a big boy." He's slept through the night in his room for a week now. Promises of treats at Build a Bear abound... but yet, never fails at 4am (or thereabouts) I wander down the hall to listen for him in his room. For his even breaths. His tossing and turning. For his sense of being. I do miss him coming to our room. Even for these new snuggles. And even the jabs in the leg or arm that came with his sudden new height. But, I knew--even before The Peanut's arrival--he'd eventually move to his room. And it seems he has. For the most part.
So, now, I have The Peanut. And all her baby goodness. I'm worried that come 4 years from now, I will lose all memory of her middle of the night snuggles too. Of her soft hand on my cheek or arm. Of those nose to arm nestles that she does to wake me to nurse. It's all so precious. And the first time around, I don't think I realized just how precious it was. Now that I know, I'm not sure I want to give it up so easily.
Labels: motherhood, parenting, slice of life story challenge, The Kiddo, The Peanut
