It’s 3am

“Should I go get him?”

My son has been fussing in this crib for a good 10 minutes and, when Ben fusses, there’s usually something bothering him. He’s not about to remember that he’s tired and just go back to sleep.

“Yeah, go ahead. Unless you want me to get up.”

“No, no, I don’t mind.”

My husband gets out of bed to go get my son. It’s 3am and we’re all awake. We’ve been awake for a while because we are all sick, sharing a nasty cough and sore throat between the three of us for about a week now. I’m guessing Ben was woken up by one of us coughing.

Jason puts Ben in bed with me. We try not to co-sleep, but on nights when he wants comfort or closeness, it happens. It makes me hyper-aware of his little body in my bed, which makes it even harder for this insomniac to get restful sleep.

He wants to comfort nurse, in between his own coughing and being startled by my coughing, as well as his father’s. We are a sorry bunch. I’m happy to nurse him because I know he feels awful, just like I do. I would want whatever comfort I could find too.

When he’s finished he puts his pacifier in his mouth and settles in next to me. He looks like he’s sleepy, but then he notices that he can reach the sheet I have over me. He pulls it up over his head and quickly yanks it back down. My son wants to play peek-a-boo at 3 o-clock in the morning. He’s both frustrating and adorable and I smile down at him. He’s so proud to show me his new trick; he just learned how to peek-a-boo about a week ago.

I settle in on my pillow next to him and he puts his palm over my face. Right smack in the middle of my face, like it belongs there. I kiss it and he giggles. I can smell the graham crackers and watermelon he ate with dinner. I think about how these moments are fleeting, and how much I enjoy them. I also think about how badly I want to sleep. It’s always like that though… a perfect moment, full of love and appreciation… at 3am when you’re exhausted. You can’t pick and choose these moments.

He takes his hand down and curls up with my sheet. He inches just a little closer and squeaks a bit, like he does when he’s annoyed that he can’t get comfortable. He finally settles down and I hear his breathing change and I know he’s asleep. He’s always been easy to get to sleep. He must get that from his father because it takes me forever to fall asleep. I hope he keeps that trait as he grows up.

Trying hard not to cough and wake him up I adjust my pillow and watch him for a bit. It’s dark but I can still tell that I’ll need to fight him a little in the morning to get his hair combed. It’s sticking up in all directions. In his sleep he reaches up and puts his hand on my arm. I close my eyes and think of how perfect he is, how I made him, and how he’s mine.

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One Response to It’s 3am

  • bridget says:

    love. love. love. “It’s always like that though… a perfect moment, full of love and appreciation… at 3am when you’re exhausted. You can’t pick and choose these moments.” such a beautiful quote Sam!

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Hi. I'm Sam. I'm glad you're here. This blog of mine is a place for me to write about whatever I'd like... maybe you'll be interested in what I decide to put here. That would be awesome, wouldn't it? :)

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