I don’t set an alarm anymore. It isn’t exactly necessary.
I think the babies are going through a developmental spurt and some separation anxiety so sleep has been a bit fitful for them recently. My boy alarm woke me up at 530 this morning. Bryan had gone downstairs so I got him, brought him into bed with me, fed him (the baby, not Bryan) and left him there to snuggle. It’s hard for me to go back to sleep after being awakened if its closer to morning so while I waited and hoped Miles would drift back off to sleep for a couple more hours I laid there in the dark thinking about Christmas.
I thought about Christmas last year, 18 weeks pregnant, both excited at the prospect of motherhood and nervous about the health of the babies, hoping they would stay put and be born healthy and hopefully full term. I thought about our “special gift” to my parents where we revealed the genders.
Miles stirred. I turned around and pulled him a little closer to me. I placed my finger in his small hand. He, in response, giggled in his sleep. I smiled.
I thought of two Christmases ago, waking up to the start of yet another new cycle and how all I wanted to do was get the day over with, avoiding all the Facebook updates with pictures of families. I wrote a post a few weeks ago about I think Christmas will always be laced with both sad and happy memories and as I finally drifted back to sleep, my hand in my sons’, I felt as I expected – both sad and at peace.
Merry Christmas to all, and to all still trying – to all remembering their angels, I will always be here hoping and remembering with you.