The top sheet goes on, aloft like a sail.
These babies are little, much littler than Malachi.
Their mothers lay them down in their cribs at about seven p.m.,
and they conk right out.
I am in awe of this.
Playing peek-a-boo with his big sister, as mommy tries to make the bed.
The baby was up his usual two or three times,
but when I changed his diaper at about one a.m., something went wrong,
and the sheets, blanket, his onesie and my pajamas all got wet.
I staggered around trying to clean things up just enough to get us to morning.
He was up a few more times, crying, which always means a new tooth.
I got up at about six, had my blessed cup of coffee, and then one more,
while Daddy slept next to Malachi.
By then the baby was sleeping peacefully.
Nights can be tough,
but mornings are beautiful.
For over two decades, Saturday has been the day for fresh sheets.
This week, it's Wednesday.
I love a made bed.
I also love a white bed.
When Malachi started co-sleeping
(which hadn't been the plan when he was born),
I was thankful for all my pillows.
I need a pillow to edge the bed,
one against my back,
at least one for my head.
This is my Grandma Lois's headboard.
When my cousin Sara saw it here for the first time,
she said in her gentle voice,
"Oh! Grandma's headboard!"
Then we looked at each other and we both began to cry.
The bed reminds me of my grandparents' habit of reading
a chapter of the Bible together every night,
and then praying for all their children and grandchildren.
Oh a clean bed at last.
The quilt is from a precious friend.
It's not only beautiful,
it's incredibly useful to have a throw blanket for naptime.
Someday I will be allowed to sleep through the night.
I've had four other babies,
and I'm not too worked up about it.
They all grow up,
and when that happens,
I always wish I had been more present during the blurred days of their infancy.
These hours with this last baby of mine,
I am soaking them up.
I am thankful for each one.