Me and My Boy

Each day brings us closer to the time when Thaddeus will sleep through the night.  A little tweak here and there.  I don't want to be too optimistic but I think another week or two, and we'll be there.  And this post would be nothing else if not typically me:  I'm kinda going to miss it.

Tonight he slept from 7:30 until 3:30am, and I have every confidence that he only woke up due to soaking through his pajamas.  It would have been the second night in a row (last night was 11:30 until 6).  A bigger diaper might fix it.  And as much as I like sleep (oh, how I like sleep), I must admit I will miss those moments in the wee hours of the morning.

We rock in the chair, just me and my boy.  Although I'm not nursing him anymore, he nestles into the side of my body and the curve of the bottle lays across my breast, a successful imitation.  And it is intimate.  We settle into each other, and we two are the only ones awake, while dreams on the rest of the world.  He eats throughout the day, obviously, but this is easily my favorite.  He is calm and content to just be with me; the darkness hides all that would conspire to distract him from our full-bellied goal.  He more often than not falls asleep in the bottle, and I put him up on my shoulder to pat his back.  I rock with him there, as he melts into my body, his breathing heavy and beautiful, for much longer than necessary.  I love how we still fit together, after pregnancy.  When I lay him down, I have to resist nuzzling his cheeks or exposed neck.

They say the grass is always greener... I don't want to go back to a time when sleeping for eight hours straight seemed like an unreachable paradise, but I'll miss that hour we shared (ever so slightly).