The Boy is in Our Bed…

and i’m stuck over on one side of our double, barely under the covers. but im not annoyed. i actually love it. i love the extra cuddles, the sound of him breathing next to me, his beautiful little face all angelic next to mine, his tiny hands holding onto my shoulder. it’s the best thing in the world.

i’ve missed him in so many ways the last few months. i spent most of October in the hospital, and i’ve had far too many days since beginning my treatment when i’ve been too exhausted to play all of our old games. i’ve missed all of the school runs, the tickle fights, the hide and seeks and trips to the park or soft play. i’ve missed playing along to his amazing imagination, making trails around the house, making dens out of the sofa cushions and blankets and hiding and finding treasure. i’ve been missing out on being the best mum i can be to my amazing little boy.

and so just now, in the middle of the night, when he shouted my name and woke me up and then whispered that he missed me, i picked him up and carried him to our room. to the big bed. to let him hold onto me, and to hold him back. to kiss his forehead as he snuggles into me. to reassure him that i am still here. i’m still his mummy. i still love him more than life itself. because he is my life.

i don’t care if my sleep is interrupted tonight. i don’t care if i don’t get to wear the duvet. if my leg sticks out of the side of the bed.

my only child is happy. and so, therefore, am i.

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1 comment
  1. B said:

    This is so lovely! Reminds me of when I was little and would run to sleep in my parent’s bed: the absolute fear of the darkness between our rooms and the sheer sense at peace once I was snuggled with them.

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