Preparing for bed last night, I enter my room. My lamp is lit, a new book ready to be read sits on my bed. My body is physically and mentally exhausted and I’ve been waiting for this moment since my first alarm this morning. I’m excited to crawl into my big fluffy bed, until I see the lump of child on the other side. Less than thirty minutes ago, I tucked her in her own bed. The living quarters sit very close to our doors, meaning the girl used her keen ninja skills and snuck into my unsuspecting bed, while I sat in a chair nearby.
My stomach turns, because I can see how the next few hours play out: a dark room, a foot lodged in my back, covers stolen, a whiney dog not being able to slumber in her favorite spot, and heads that knock all night. “Scooch over!” I’ll say a million times in the sleepless night. I already feel tired tomorrow. Obviously, this has happened before; and I assume it will happen again.
After a few failed attempts to move her back to her bed, I crawl under the covers. I’m ready to accept my fate of another failed night’s sleep. “Really, what’s one more sleepless night after many?” I reassure myself.
Before picking up my book, I look over at her sleeping face. She is still, quiet, and clean, which is not in her nature. Her breathing is still and rhythmic. Her eyelashes are long, and curling just right; rosy cheeks flushing her face, her lips moving ever so slightly. I’m in awe of her peace, her stillness, and, as always, her beauty.
I pray she is greeted with beautiful dreams of the things that make her happy. Please give her butterflies, unicorns, and rainbows, I pray. I hope her night stays peaceful, while her guardian angels stand over her, keeping the bad dreams away. Will the dreams she sees tonight inspire tomorrow’s creation, which I will think of as tomorrow’s mess?
Most of all, I reflect on why there is room in my bed. Seeing her sleep is another reminder of the loss, that is never too far from our minds. I’m NOT thankful that there’s room for her, rather grateful for the eyes of being able to find the beauty, peace, and acceptance of this moment, as I watch my little one sleep.