My youngest, four now, has been sleeping next to me most nights since he was born. Some nights he falls asleep in my bed, some nights I accidentally fall asleep in his. Other nights he starts in his and I start in mine and then inevitably there’s the patter of little feet and a tap on my cheek and the making of space for him next to me.
And I love it. I’m not complaining and I’m not martyr-ing and I’m not unaware, having been down this road three times before, that things can change in the blink of an eye and before you know it a whole slew of nights will have passed where we both slept through, alone, because he’s outgrown that need for me.
But for four years now I’ve been next to him and on each and every one of those nights he’s flipped and flopped and rolled in that toddler sleep-way his way over too close to an edge and I, half asleep, have reached over, grabbed an appendage, and pulled him back.
It occurred to me in the middle of the night recently after one such rescue that this is motherhood in a nutshell, am I right? He can sleep his way right through a hundred near-falls because he trusts that I will catch him.
And I will.
Until he doesn’t need me to anymore.
(via Liz Petrone)
found @ 3219 likes ON 2019-02-04 18:21:07 BY ME.ME