Dear Baby,
It’s the middle of the night and the moon is shining brightly. The world is asleep.
But you’re not. And I’m not.
You’re awake.
And so am I.
It’s just us here. No other sound. But me and you.
Nighttime’s can be magical and special. Cherishing those baby scented cuddles. Knowing that you’re here safe and sound. The amazement that my body is nourishing yours. There is nothing more overwhelming than looking down at your downy head and feeling that incredible rush of love.
But it can also be bloody lonely.
There’s only me, and only you.
Just the two of us.
And you’ve decided that the only way you want to sleep is ON me.
Physically on top of me. And only whilst I’m sitting up.
And I’m so tired all I want to do is lie down, close my eyes and sleep.
I try to judge the moment, your eyes are shut, your breathing deep and even.
I lie you down. Holding my breath that this time is the magic time.
Then I hear it. The shuffling sound of a fidgeting baby. The telltale grunting. Sniffles and squawks. Your legs lifting up and banging down.
I squeeze my eyes shut tighter, hoping against hope that you’re just being a noisy sleeper.
I’m out of luck.
The cry. The bellow. The wail.
How dare you put me down? Pick me up immediately and get me back to sleep.
Feeding again. And again. And again. Didn’t I just do this? Why aren’t your eyes closing?
Watching the minutes tick past, creeping into hours.
You wants only me in the middle of the night. Only I will do.
There is no break. No rest. No one else is good enough.
It’s all me. On my own.
There’s only you and me awake. The rest of the world sleep.
Safely snuggled in my arms I watch those tiny eyelids grow heavy. Close. I hold my breath.
And start the same cycle again.
Put you down.
You wake up.
Pick you up. Settle you. Wind you. Burp you. Bicycle legs. Rhythmic tap tap tapping on your back, your bum. Stroking your soft little head with my finger. Maybe it’s wind. Do you need to poo? Isn’t it always wind? Over my shoulder. Nestled in my arms. Always moving positions, which is working best? I don’t know anymore.
Looking down. Marveling in you yet being shaken by your staying power.
Why won’t you sleep? I’m sure all the other newborns are sleeping. The book says you should sleep.
Shush shush now.
Gently swaying, walking round the room in circles holding you upright. Singing soft lullaby’s.
Is it wind? Is it a leap? Do I even believe in the wonder weeks?
All the time only I will do. Only I will soothe you now.
My touch, my smell, my voice and my milk. It’s all you’ve ever known. It’s the very centre of your world.
And that’s a wonderful thing.
And also, bloody lonely.
There’s no one to hold my hand in the shadows. To tell me what a brilliant job I’m doing.
It’s dark in the room, the shadows from the moon dance. I can hear the sounds of sleep coming from the other rooms.
But not in here.
Feed. Wind. Cuddle. Put down.
Feed. Wind. Cuddle. Put down.
Feed. Wind. Cuddle. Put down.
And repeat. And repeat. In the darkness.
There is only me. And only you.
As I rub my gritty eyes and wonder if this time is THE time, smiling as I glance down at your face so restful, so peaceful.
I know that this won’t last forever.
I know that this will pass.
And I know that one day I will miss it. The all consuming need. The milky scented cuddles.
But, right now, that doesn’t stop it being hard. And it doesn’t stop it being lonely in the middle of the night.
When there’s only me. And only you.
When everyone else is sleeping.
Only me. And only you.
All my love,
Mummy
x x x
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