After writing yesterday BBs cold got really grotty to the point where it became apparent the only place they were comfortable sleeping was in my arms.
I set up a make shift bed downstairs in our tiny home, to give the hubster a chance of getting some sleep over the intermittent screams.
And I sit. And I rock their little body as it’s wracked with sobs. I whisper the gruffalo story over and over again (their favourite story) and over the next few hours I manage to soothe BB.
BB hasnt fallen asleep in my arms since they were 3 months old. Whilst I hate the discomfort BB is in, secretly I love cuddling them. It feels so precious.
So I sit there. Sleeping baby in my arms. Feeling their chest rise and fall. Contemplating life. Chewing things over in my head. Feeling so unbelievably lucky to have my baby asleep on my chest.
I watched the hours tick by until my hubby comes down at 6am. It’s getting light. He’s relieved he’s had a good nights sleep and is grateful.
But I’m the grateful one to have experienced this night with BB.
I head off and open lake swim, feeling the water electrify my body. On zero hours sleep, I feel so awake and alive.
If I’d been drinking, I’d have never stayed awake all night to soothe her. I’d have fallen asleep, isn’t that terrible? I’d have missed out on this beautiful night for “that”. The clarity feels as crystal clear as the water I swam in.
Day 49, you’ve been a good one.