Dear Baby

Dear Baby,

I wish I could explain to you that you’re experiencing nighttime separation anxiety, and though I’m not right there with you, I’m no farther than the next room away. Because they tell me that’s what this is, and I’m inclined to believe it.

It’s no one’s fault that this month has been full of changes for you. It was your first big separation from Daddy, your first real goodbye from Goma, and your first time with a caregiver that’s not family. It’s not your fault that they happened all while you were sick for the first time. And it’s not your fault that I indulged you a little while it’s just been the two of us.

I wish I could let you know that Daddy will be home soon, that you’ll see Goma again, and that Mummy will always come back for you no matter where you are. I wish I could explain that we both need sleep, and it’s okay for us to sleep apart because I’ll be there in the morning when you wake up. If I could let you know that your room is safe and your bed is just as good as mine, I would.

But, Dear Baby, no matter what I try, you don’t sleep there and so neither do I. And no matter how good my intentions are, you end up curled against me in my bed, your fingers wrapped around one of mine so you know I’m right there with you, and my heart gets all melty and my brain says “okay, one more night”.

I don’t know how to break it to you that in a couple days when Daddy gets home there won’t be enough room for you to sprawl out beside me, still holding my hand. Or that as much as Daddy loves you, he will want to sleep next to me too.

My pyjama shirt in your bed does nothing to comfort you, and I am out of ideas. So, Dear Baby, I need you to sleep for me. In your own bed. For longer than 15 minutes. Please try.

You know I’m gonna cave around midnight anyway.

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One comment

  1. Beautiful!! It’s hard isn’t it. I have hung out many times in my sons room at midnight edging my way to the door to avoid setting off the waterworks. Delicate little beings they are.

    Like

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