“Thank God,” you think… it’s been such a long afternoon.
You go to transfer him to his Pack N’ Play, something that you have done for 141 nights since the day he was born.
Tonight, though, you hear “heh, heh, heh” and you know that sound instantaneously. It is the one that precedes a cry.
His bottom lip comes out. In the manner that only he can do to make your heart melt on the spot.
He starts crying.
You rock him.
You shush him.
You check (and change) his diaper.
You then thank him for pooping his pants in his sleep.
You rock and shush.
And bites his hands. (Rinse, Repeat)
You feel it coming. That feeling that you feel when you feel out of control.
So you take him to his room and gently place him in his crib. Turn on his sound machine. Walk out and pull up the door.
You get back into bed and you count. Slowly. To 100.
You listen to him cry.
After 100, you say about 4 or 5 Hail Marys.
Somehow, these have always helped you feel a bit calm and in control.
“Hail Mary, full of grace
Our Lord is with thee.
Blessed art thou amongst women,
and blessed is the fruit of thy womb, Jesus.
Holy Mary, mother of God,
Pray for us sinners,
Now and at the hour of our deaths.
You get up. Ready to try again.
You go get your little boy. Crying at the top of his lungs and you wipe his tears away.
You are his Momma.
You carried him in your womb for 39 weeks.
You felt his little kicks.
You love him oh, so much because he is the baby that you maybe shouldn’t have had, but he survived (and thank the Lord for that).
You asked for this blessing and so you will help him get through teething.
You don’t need sleep. He needs his Momma.
That is so much more important.
So you snuggle him.
And you shush him some more.
And you try your damn best to help him get back to sleep.
Cause that’s your little boy and you would do anything for him.
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