One Minute More
It’s 3:52 AM.
“Sleep now,” everyone said as I neared the end of my pregnancy.
Numbers run through my head hours, ounces, the time she last ate, and the length of last night’s stretch. How long had she slept?
But here in the night’s stillness with the soundtrack of this baby, and the light from the hall resting on her cheek, my concern for the length of the stretch fades away. The song of her sips and soft sighs is music. It is joy. It is a sound so familiar and so fleeting, I know it will be gone in the blink of an eye. One morning, sooner than I want to think, she will wake with the daybreak and it will all be behind me. I will wish I had one minute more.
But here in the soft light and the stillness, I will not wish this moment away. I will bask in the magic of this baby. I will smell the top of her head and nestle her into my neck. I will note the cadence of her breaths and etch it into my memory. I will thank the universe for making her mine and I will stay right here…
One minute more.
