The deepest part of night. Where things still go bump and boo and you can't be convinced that the shadow is just a shadow.
It's a time of night when thoughts get dark - things are bigger, worse, more troubling, more concerning - nothing is as it seems and everything seems as it shouldn't.
Rambling internal monologue is depressing and veers into the fantastical. Reality is tenuous and sleep is like a forgotten dream.
And through it all, there is a little person who needs you. For comfort. For snuggles.
She is your rock. Your grounding reality. Her eyes stare into yours, wide and dark pools of blackness - trusting you to be her rock.
And so you swallow your anger. Your self-pity. You find reserves that do not need sleep. And you hum one more lullaby...
xxoo.S
1 comment:
Oh, that 3 a.m. Very glad to not be acquainted with it anymore! Just remember that there are many many Mummas just like you awake at that time. That always helped me get through the rough spots...
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