Long before my husband Michael and I became parents, some of my favorite moments between us had been when we would both be wide awake in the middle of the night. It always felt to me like we were the only two people in the world.
To me, there was always something special about the middle of the night. We could share our greatest secrets, have our biggest laughs or our best talks. It always seemed as though anything was possible for our future in the middle of the quiet night. There was always a sense of joy, peace, and love.
We went through a long journey to conceive and carry to full term our fraternal twin boys, Dominic and Zachary. They were born one minute apart, and in perfect health.
After their birth, I can remember the early months when my husband and I were half-awake with our newborn sons in the middle of the night. The Noah's Ark-themed nursery decorated with animals in two-by-two formation across the green and cream painted walls was the perfect place to dream of a whole new world of possibilities.
Each night, after changing diapers and warming bottles, we would each nestle into a rocking chair with one of our sons and begin to quiet the noises of hungry newborns. Once settled, only the sounds of rocking chairs slowly moving back and forth and babies gently drinking their bottles could be heard. It felt like we were the only four people in the world.
With reluctance, after they were asleep, we would gently lay them in their bassinets and be off again to our own bed. But amidst my exhaustion, in the middle of the night, I felt happy and content.
Things are a little different now as my twins turn three this year. It feels as though chaos is a typical part of our everyday lives, in one form or another. Spoons have been flushed down the toilet, and batteries have been hurled with glee at my dining room chandelier. Even bath time has become an event unto itself.
But on certain nights, when the boys, who can now get in and out of their own cribs, climb into our bed around 2:00 A.M., that same special feeling reappears. And after a few minutes of chattering, and rearranging of pillows and legs, my husband and both my boys fall back asleep.
I, however, will usually remain awake for some time, even though I know that I will be exhausted the next morning. In the middle of the night, I want to absorb these special moments that I know are fleeting, passing too quickly, by day and by year.
As I watch them sleep and listen to the sounds that are only heard in the middle of the night -- the steady breathing of my sleeping family and the stillness of the air -- I am happy and content.
The possibilities of our sons' future gently float through my mind as I eventually drift back to sleep. And in my exhaustion, there is joy; there is love; there is peace.
http://www.beliefnet.com/Inspiration/Chicken-Soup-For-The-Soul/2010/05/In-the-Middle-of-the-Night.aspx?source=NEWSLETTER&nlsource=49&ppc=&utm_campaign=DIBSoup&utm_source=NL&utm_medium=newsletter
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