Sunday, June 19


My favorite time of day happens every evening, right about 7pm.

I take Monkey upstairs to his room, change his diaper, and I sing to him as I massage him with some lavender lotion and then put on his pajamas.  We head down the hall to my room, where I swaddle him, turn on his white noise (rain sounds), turn off the lights and lay down to nurse him.

It's during these 10 to 20 minutes when everything is perfect in my world.  I can hear Husband and Turkey moving about the house or the occasional car passing on the street, but usually it's quiet.  Except for Monkey's breathing.  Even my mind is quiet.  I look at his face in the dim light coming from outside, hold his hand, take a deep breath and relax.  

This is not to say I don't have wonderful times with Turkey, I do and I always will; and I remember our days and nights of nursing fondly, but right now this time with Monkey, with my baby, brings me peace.

Eventually he will let out a little sigh.  A sigh of content, and his nursing will get slower and his breathing will change... until he's asleep.  Then I pick him up and lay him in his co-sleeper.  At which point his eyes flutter open and stares up at me.  I kiss him on the forehead, tell him goodnight and slip out of the room as he drifts back to sleep and I head back to everything else, at peace.


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