By Michelle Zunter
It was 2 am when you came into our room. I woke up immediately, of course, sensing your presence. You wanted to sleep with me. You wanted to fit right in between mom and dad.
But I said no.
This night was not unlike any other night. You weren’t sick. You didn’t seem scared. You just wanted to climb into bed with me.
But I said no.
The reasons for this are the same reasons I’ve always had. I want you to be independent. I want you to be able to soothe your own troubles. But I also get tired. It’s hard to sleep with someone pushing you off the side of the bed or kicking you every 5 minutes. Is this selfish? Maybe.
Those opportune moments come and go, the days flow by, and the nights where we have the chance to hold our children close will not last forever.
And now I regret it. I regret not feeling your sweet breath as you cuddle close and your warm little hands wrapped around me. I regret putting you back to bed, giving a hurried kiss, and shutting the door behind me. I regret only thinking of getting back to sleep.
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