On the day Sophia was born I was floored by my insane desire to have her close to me, almost as if I missed having her inside me, a part of my body. We needed each other and became as close to inseparable as two bodies can be. I was by her side each and every day and night.
I loved having her with me at night. I have always cherished the wee hours of the morning with my babies. With each of them, our time together in the silent and black night brought perfect moments of unity and peace. I don’t worry about sleeping methods or letting them cry because, for us, it seems wrong. There will be so many years of nights when we will no longer have those precious quiet moments. There will be plenty of time for indpendence and training. While they are babies, when they wake, I will lay them on my chest, cradle them and try to mark the feeling on my heart. I never want to forget how much I love sleepy nighttime cuddles.
The time comes so soon when they cease to wake, when they move into their own rooms, when they sleep without my arms and start to leave their baby days behind. I still have these moments with Violet every night. While I am tired, I wouldn’t trade these days.
Lately, as I sit with Violet I remember Sophia and Miles as little ones. I think about where we sat, how long our nightly rituals lasted, and how sad I was when they came to an end.
When Violet moved out of our room and into her room with Sophia, I got a few more moments with my firstborn. When Ross travels, I let Sophia sleep in my room. She is still my baby, and like her dad is a middle of the night cuddler. So, when Ross is away I get to steal some of those moments back. I get to snuggle my little girl without any of the commotion of daily activities or her busy siblings. It’s a lovely thing.
In the still of the night, I am happy.