It is Dark.

And I am warm.

I am in my bed.

I am lying on my stomach with my right arm stretched up and under my feather pillow.

I am facing to the left, my left arm bent with my left hand under my pillow just below my cheek.

The covers are up to just below my neck and I am warm.

This is my most favorite and ultimate sleeping position and I am asleep.

Totally relaxed and thinking of nothing but how comfy my bed is. And how warm I am.

Behind the closed lids of my eyes, I see a flash of red-ish light. Then another.

I will it to go away, to stop. But it continues to flash.

It becomes brighter and nearly constant.

Though the sound is turned off on the baby monitor, the lights alert me to the waking activities of the little person in the room across the house.

I move my left hand out from under my perfectly portioned pillow.

I grab the covers.

And suddenly,


The air is cold.

The room is cold.

The tile is COLD.


And I run across the house to the baby’s room.

I put the binky in his mouth.

I hope.

I maybe even pray.

But the baby rolls over.

He wakes up.

He is hungry – what is a Momma to do?

I pick him up, he is warm.

I sit on the chair in the corner of the room.

It is cold.

I feed the baby. I burp the baby.

All the while, I am cold.

I lay the baby back down to sleep.

Two quick pats and I am running back across the house to my bed.

I jump into the bed on my side.

But it is no longer warm.

So I roll over toward the middle of the bed, and find a pair of warm legs.

And my feet find warmth.

I find a warm back.

And my my hands are warm.

As I thaw, I roll back over to my side. I find my pillow, I roll over on my stomach. I stretch out my arm.

And I find sleep again.

8 months.

4 hour stretches of sleep.

When I get to heaven, all I want is a bed.




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