I woke up this morning in a funk. A bad funk. A grumpy, unsettled, nasty funk that stuck around in one form or another most of the day.
And then I realized -- this was the first night in almost FOUR YEARS that I hadn't slept with my child, in utero or out. It was the longest period we'd ever been apart, that 12 hours of sleep.
I missed him. I missed his little body near mine, I missed the peace of mind I get when he's close by. I complain about lack of sleep -- a lot -- but in many ways I just don't want it any other way. I want more sleep -- God, believe me I do -- but I also want my child close to me. And for the last few months, we've had the best of both worlds, and I'm not ready for it to come to an end.
Pregnancy and early infancy was a really hard time for me -- I might make great babies but it takes a great deal away from me. But at least I can keep that little being close by, in close protection of my body.
I hate letting go.
I know this will get easier. And I also know that no matter what, I will always be his mom, and nothing will ever change that. My special role in his life will never change.
But it still makes me sad.
1 comment:
Yeah, tell me about it. Three consecutive nights SP has stayed in her bed till morning. And what have I been doing? You guessed it: waking up repeatedly from 3:00 a.m. onward because nobody is draping herself weightily over my legs or snuggling overheatedly up to my back or using my upper arm as a pillow for her sweaty little head.
Hmm ... perhaps this is why people decide to have more children ...
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