Last Night

"The cool peace and dewy sweetness of the night filled me with a mood of hope: 

not hope on any definite point, but a general sense of encouragement and heart-ease."  — Charlotte Brontë

We tried and failed last night, Sky and I.

Down the hall came little cries that turned into bigger ones- the sad, pitiful cries that seem to say, "I've had a bad dream., the kind that are just right for breaking hearts. We thought we had calmed her down a few minutes before, but up rose the cries again. Sky pushed back his covers and said, "What if we let her sleep in here for a while?" I made a face.

When Millie was still a tiny sweetpea in my belly, I already had it planned out. I did not want a baby who slept in my bed every night, or one that would end up still sleeping in my bed when she was 15. Sky had agreed. And when Millie arrived, she made the transition from the bassinet an inch from my side to bassinet across the room to her crib in her own room. I felt proud of my parenting resolve.

But last night, when he asked me and I heard her baby sobs, the stars aligned just right and I had to try to cuddle with her. Sky brought her into the room. Her silk-soft hair was scrunched up in funny places, her pajama top was ridding up her chubby tummy, and she squinted her eyes at me and grinned a huge grin. We looked at her for a second as she settled in between us with a favorite blanket, and I think we both felt like we were getting away with something by breaking our sworn rules. I reached over and turned out the lamp, and we closed our eyes, saying "night night" to her and to ourselves.

She was still for a minute or two, just grasping for my finger or running her hand down my cheek. When she'd stir a little, we'd hush her and hold her close. After five minutes of relative quiet and slower breaths from her, I thought she had finally dozed off. And then, a small, high voice in the darkness...and a kind of baby-talk-slurred, "What's that?!?"

The bed was shaking from our laughter, and Sky explained she had felt the whiskers on his face. Millie sat up and began bouncing, giggling, and playing peekaboo with her blanket. We watched her show for a couple minutes, and then Sky brought her back to her crib. The house was quiet again. The bed was bigger with just us two. There was a little warm spot where she had been.

I got what I said I wanted- and maybe more than I bargained for. But even though those sweet five minutes tucked in tight as a family were short, they were beautiful.