In the still of the night, I held you. I did not relish the moment.
At first, I held you with anger in my heart. I thought only of myself: of the sleep I was missing, of the other babies already sleeping through the night, and of how hard tomorrow would be with only a few hours of sleep.
Then, you looked at me. You searched my face for something. When you didn’t find what you were looking for, you reached for me and started to cry.
What more did you want? What else could I possibly give?
I searched for meaning in the moment. I tried to put myself in your shoes. What finally occurred to me was that the rest of my world was asleep. There was only you and me.
There was no other place I had to be, no one else to feed or look after, no emails to send or chores to do. There was nothing more important than what I was doing right then and there.
I’d read the blog posts and books. I’d heard my friends, parents, and even strangers say that I should cherish these moments. I didn’t truly understand what they were saying until that moment, in the darkness, when there was only you and me.
I would never get this moment back. So, I gazed at your face. I smiled. I pulled you closer. You relaxed, you studied me, then you closed your eyes. I promised myself I would set aside more time for just you and me.
It’s so hard so slow down enough in my every day life to truly appreciate you. You are number two. With number one, everything was new and exciting. I had more energy and attention to give. The moments of him and me came more easily. Realizing this, I feel terrible guilt.
You don’t care if I have showered that day, if the laundry is folded, if my emails have been answered. You live for the moments of you and me. I am your world and I need to make you more the center of mine.
So, in the night when I wake feeling inconvenienced and annoyed, I will try to remember that these moments can be magical if I let them be. They can be moments when time stands still. Where our bodies melt together, sharing heat and love and comfort.