Facebook again. Shielding again. Loads in the group are hitting a ten-week wall. I got there a week early – and someone gave me this. It helped in a very practical and immediate way!
And my mood lifted ever since – and wrote this at “silly o’clock” today …
My little friend, in whatever perch he has, is warbling beautifully. This bed big enough for two is wonderfully cosy. Propped up on pillows reading through the words of those connecting is connecting me. Five hours solid sleep might not be perfect but is way more than we had as parents of newborns and now grandparents of overnights for their recently-borns.
That swaddling and holding … after the whatever o’clock night feed …
My job to get a warm bottle while the grumbles were “grumbles” … Mrs Paul’s to soothe the bomb-about-to-explode until my warm bottle defused an explosion … then listening in the dark to the feeding … that rhythmic glug-glug-exhale-glug-glug-exhale … sneaking a finger into a tiny hand … feeling those tiny perfect fingers wrap and unwrap around mine … and then that loud abrupt noise as air not milk is pulled from an empty bottle … the shock of this wee one … the quick transfer from Mrs Paul to me … the delicate fast swaddling and wrapping in my arms … easing up and out bed as Mrs Paul eases back down on her side. And now my turn …
The bit I love: the gentle tap on the back – more a rub than a tap – the shifting weight from one leg to another – the connection-sensing just how gentle or enthusiastic the rocking – and then a lovely belch (or at least a worthwhile burp) – that inner twist and cheesy milky smell – and always followed by a relaxed welding even more to my embrace – the adjusting of movement and touch to ease this precious wee one back to a sleep deep enough to make the awkward transfer back to a travel cot at the foot of our bed possible.
From the upright swaddle – to the 45 degrees – the unconscious wee one’s knowing – the “hold your station” of an uncomfortable out of position rocking for me – comforting this wee one into solid sleep for the wee one’s next move – manoeuvring this most precious load to his/her resting place three inches from the floor (why are travel cots so far down – there goes my back – ignore it – ignore it).
And then the last mile – from my arms to a cold travel cot mattress – and in just the right place and correct position – all without that transition breaking this wonderful sleep into murmurs and then complaint and then insistence and then “how very dare you” – and we go back to square one (with a wee one not quite as trusting as before) …
Just as then so right now – my friend outside has been joined by another warbler or two. Just as then so this morning – still dark enough to be sleep-time, noisy enough for the waking birds to disagree. Just as then returning to bed and a sound-asleep Mrs Paul with a sound asleep wee-one in their cot – not so this morning.
Mrs Paul in the spare bedroom and me in our bed. Both of us now with our “own bed”. Both thinking this life normal and knowing it’s not. And this morning – as then – Mrs Paul sleeping soundly and me not.
This morning not yet morning lying here awake and content. Awake in a sleeping world and feeling so connected. So many memories of so much love then and the same this morning – still surrounding me this morning and every morning.
I think love is greater than death. Love is stronger than steel. Love grows simply by giving love. Love that is without condition or transaction. Love that is greater than touch. Love that doesn’t “need” because love is needless.
Lying here in the dark-not-yet day … life is so simple and so rewarding. I have no idea what the day will bring even though I have a good idea. So I am not going to stress over what the next fortnight, month, months or years might bring.
I live best in the moment. All those moments that are alive from my past. all those moments yet to come in my future. And even though I am alone in this bed for two right now – there are so many moments to remember and live again. So many moments to live again in that spare room where Mrs Paul,sleeps now. Not really the spare room – the grandchildren’s room. Still with the big proper cot now empty all these weeks. Those moments of the midday sleep routine – all those chuckling in the dark little routines me and a wee-one make – just for each other.
I thrive in the moments. It’s the “what-if” of ever or never, of why and why not, of fair and unfair, of what about me!!!
(always an exclamation mark with that one)
The dawn chorus sounds gorgeous this morning. Part of so many wonderful moments. Part of something so gentle and reliable. So loving and living. In this moment right now I can put down the future, and let rest the past. I pick my moments like I pick ripe blackberries. Through sight and feel and knowing – a plump juicy morsel. Yummy yummy ❤️❤️❤️
I love my life.
Our daughter send us pics of their baby monitor. Same love – different cot!
An extract from our other daughter’s (not traditional) “Bride’s Speech”. Unexpected, unrehearsed, AND without notes – she brought the whole room to a complete damp-eyed wonderful silence. Mrs Paul and I … ? Floods of happy tears!
A very special moment!