Saturday, January 2, 2016

At the Stroke of Midnight

My sister-in-law shared an Ebook of 365 writing prompts on The Daily Post website that she found. The prompt for January 1st asks where we were when the clock struck midnight on the New Year and if that's where we wanted to be. 

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I sat in my rocking chair, rocking my 6-month-old son to sleep as he soothed at my breast. My husband walked into the nursery and stood in front of me staring at his watch.

"3 . . . 2 . . . 1 . . . Happy New Year!" Michael whispered to me.

"Happy New Year," I whispered back, trying not to wake our son. My husband then reached down to cradle our son in his arms. The baby whimpered a little bit, but he settled down in the warmth of his daddy's arms. I watched as Michael put him in his crib and waited expectantly for the cries to start.

3 . . . 2 . . . 1 . . . And the cries began. Our son would not sleep in his crib, hadn't for the last two weeks. The minute his body touched the crib, he'd wake up and wail until we picked him up again. Two weeks of struggling to get him to sleep in his crib had taken its toll on me. I was just exhausted.

I left the room to brush my teeth, letting my husband try to get our son to fall back asleep in his crib. I came back to get a New Year kiss. Then I settled into my bed, pulled the covers up, and played a game on my tablet for a few minutes before finally deciding to go to sleep. At that point, I didn't care if my son was still awake. I knew my husband could handle it. He would be awake for a few more hours anyway because of his work schedule. Within minutes I was fast asleep, so tired that I didn't even wake when my daughter crawled into my bed and cuddled with me at 2 am (so my husband told me later). Though I did wake up at 5 am to feed a hungry baby.