In the Early Morning

It is 3:00 am or maybe 4:00 am or even just 2:30 am.  The exact time doesn't matter.  Jack begins thumping his feet in his crib and grumbling--he's hungry.  I stumble to the portacrib next to our bed and check if his diaper is wet.  Guided by the dull glow of our closet light (our temporary night light for these first few months), I change his diaper and hope that he does not lose his patience with me and cry loud enough to risk waking his brother in the next room.  Fortunately, he giggles as he welcomes a fresh diaper.  I think of checking the time, but I did not remember to put on my glasses.  Resisting the urge to cuddle up in bed with Jack (because I'd surely fall asleep), instead I sit on the edge of my bed and nurse him.  The time goes slow.  Sometimes I feel dizzy in my drowsy state and forget what I'm doing.

But I look down and watch him gulp peacefully as he fills up and slowly falls back asleep.  And I know that even if I am tired, this is something that no one else will ever experience with him.  The quiet of the room.  The moments when it is just me and him awake in the early morning while everyone else is asleep.  A baby, full and satisfied, falling asleep on you is among the best feelings in the world.  I try to remember it all, and my memories are all that will track this history because Jack surely will forget.  I can't even take a photo of him in the night to help the permanence of this moment that will pass by all too quickly--the room is too dark.  It is our special time together and it is so temporal.

I am blessed to be his mother.
I am blessed to have a healthy baby waking me in the night.
I am blessed to be able to nurture him with milk--not everyone can.
And I am blessed to be able to recognize all of this.