The Middle of the Night

The other night- as I lay awake way past when I should have been snoozing- I heard Sienna cry out.

I went to her and she couldn’t tell me anything that was hurting or anything that had scared her so I retucked her into bed and slid back into mine, hoping sleep would come this time.

She did it again. And a third time. That third time I asked her if she wanted me to lay with her. Surprisingly my need-personal-space daughter said yeah. We lay in the dark not speaking. Just barely touching. Crammed onto a trundle bed that gets pulled out every night and pushed back in every morning.

I treasured those moments with her. I took the time to smell her scent and feel her chubby fingers as they stroked her bunny. I wasn’t thinking about sleep or to-dos or tomorrow. Just her. A daughter, a middle child. And I didn’t mind curling my adult body beside her tiny one even if it was in the middle of the night because I know there are days coming where a snuggle with Mommy won’t be enough to solve her problems. Her disappointments will be too deep for my embrace to resolve. Her fears will be things that haunt me too.

So I chose to relish that moment when a Mommy’s arms were more than enough to soothe an innocent heart back to sleep. Even if she did tell me after 20 minutes I could go back to my bed. I think it was the personal space thing.