the breath after the witching hours

The light lifts the night away, revealing the raw tenderness and beauty that was forgotten in the 2am wakeup.
The crying child that didn’t want to sleep on the extra bed, but wanted to sleep right there – pushed against the heat and sweat of mama-with-no-patience.
The little one that rolls and shoves and moves until he’s stuck to my back, hand searching for my breast.
The babe within that’s engaged so deeply in my pelvis that it feels it’s splitting in two, while my bladder begs to be relieved..
And I lay there, with the lamp on – annoyed in the humid stillness of this summer night, wondering how the fuck I’m going to manage with a newborn. Where is she going to safely sleep? How can I stop losing my shit with my daughter who just needs extra love? How can I just put my own discomfort aside and let her hot, sticky body cuddle into mine? Let her hot breath on my face without clenching my fists and counting over and over again in my head until she falls asleep and hope that I can transition her somewhere else.
So upset with myself for how my body is physically reacting to her needs – how she’s telling me she just needs a hug, and how I can’t soften and give it without still clenching my jaw.. because I just want to sleep. Because she lays there whimpering for what feels like no reason.
…and I know the reason – she just wants her mama… and I don’t particularly want her in this moment. and I haven’t been patient or loving with her during the day either… so all she needs is just.. me. A reset.. a reminder.  Love.

The world keeps spinning, and this moment of time is simply a moment in the grand scheme of things.
The sun cracks the horizon, filling the room with light and washing last nights drama away
A new day.. A new beginning. A chance to begin again.

So I wake her up, after I’ve crawled my heavy body out of bed – and I hug her.. and try to fill her up with my love and apology for last night.
I try to find softness in my body and voice in how I ask her to come downstairs to get ready for school… to gently encourage her to do these tasks without a struggle..

These growing pains that I could suggest are her age – are really just me. Her needs unmet and my well run dry.

This too shall pass..
So I capture this moment, as they lay sprawled across the hodge podge of a family bed.. Where wildness and sweetness unfolds. Where nightmares come to be relieved, where lullaby is the rise and fall of everyone’s breath safely tucked under the same roof together… Where our bodies are extension of each other.
A reminder to myself that this is a fleeting moment… and that while the nights are long the years are short – and my babies grow up and out of my arms, my bed, my home..
That this sweet simple goodness shall pass too…