Its 2:30 a.m. Molly (my 5 month old) is waking for the third time tonight already. She’s not sick. She is not in a growth spurt. Her diaper is clean and she’s not too hot or cold. I don’t know what she needs. I do know that after five days of this and VERY little sleep, I can’t see straight. The house is a mess. We have used all of our allotted “eat out” days for the month and we are only half way through. I go about my days like a zombie. I feel like I am not even carrying on a functioning conversation. I’m not sure how much more I can take of this. The house is so quiet, I feel alone.
And then she wraps her tiny fingers around mine. Suddenly in my sleep-deprived state, I remember what is really happening. I may not know why she needs me, but she does. I am all she needs. All she wants. Yes, the 2:30 a.m. “need” may be inconvenient but one day she won’t need me at 2:30 a.m. She may not need me at all. I’ll look back on these long nights and remember when I was her only desire. These are her personal moments with me. Not only will I remember these nights as our special time, some times on busy days the only time for just her and I, but I will also see it as my investment. Into our relationship. Me, investing in her. In her future. In who she will become. I am beginning now, showing her that anytime she needs me, even 2:30 a.m., I am here. Sleep will come. One day.
So for now, I deliriously look at her tiny little fingers, wrapped around mine. I gently sooth her cries. I rub her soft hair as she nurses. I kiss her cheek as I place her back in her bed. And then I sleep for a few more minutes. And no matter when she needs me again, I will be here, for her and her tiny little fingers.
