Dear Daughter,

Tired in the night, upset bubbles up. Sleep, baby sleep. Please? I’m so tired. Your teeth are pushing through, making you miserable. Tylenol soothes the pain but cannot relieve the stinging itchiness as they emerge. You kick your legs unhappily and nurse to relieve your discomfort.

I. Want. My. Space. I. Want. My. Sleep.

Your eyes are closed, long lashes brushing your cheeks. I cannot see this in the dark but I have memorized the way your face looks when you are hovering between sleep and wakeful discomfort. I know without needing to see that your hair is in your face again, no ponytail can keep it out. I brush it away from your face and  I kiss your forehead out of routine and less out of desire.

Your sweet milky smell sneaks its way into my nose, and that hair of yours is in my face too. Suddenly I don’t need for you to go into your own space. You are my daughter, my child. Not quite fourteen months old. You are uncomfortable. You need the comfort of being close. I can hold you and soothe away what discomfort is left that the medication cannot touch.

Your daddy stirs awake and reaches over, taking you from my arms to try and move you to your crib to let me have some sleep he knows I need so badly. You fuss. He bounces with you and you rest your head against his shoulder finding peace in movement and in his closeness. He lays down with you. You fuss awake again. He bounces some more. You wake up more and cry for me. He cannot move you away from me, not tonight.

I hear your cries and reach out with my arms. He brings you over to me and whispers to you that he understands what you’re asking for, and that you need mommy right now. You root for me with your eyes closed and nurse for thirty seconds before you roll over onto your back with your head nestled onto my belly. You’re sound asleep with your head rising and falling to my breath.

For now you need this comfort of being near. Your body aches with the need to learn to walk. Your mouth aches with the teeth that are fighting to come out. Simply laying next to me soothes you more than any medication can. I am grateful to be able to provide you with this comfort.

And I am thankful that a simple little kiss to your forehead reminded me of this when I was having a grumpy night.

I whisper in the dark “I love you, little one”. I feel it to the bottom of my heart. Happy tears well up and sleep comes for me as well. We do not wake again until the morning.

I did not sleep as much as I would like or as much as I feel I need. But your sleep was restful and you have woken up bright eyed and happy instead of tired and miserable. I smile. “Good morning, beautiful girl.” and you launch yourself towards me, bumping heads and giving me a huge open-mouthed kiss to the nose.

I’ve seen already that you are developing the ability to sleep on your own and to soothe yourself back to sleep at night. This is not a step backwards, this is you in pain and need.

The nights do seem endless sometimes. But I know that we are closer to sleep than we have ever been. I can ride out these regressions and give you the comfort you need in the night for this little while longer til all your teeth have grown in and until you have learned this thing called walking.

I love you, little one. Day or night.

❤ Mama