I've been up since 4:30 this morning. Right now it's 5:45. I have the legs of my 26 week baby in my belly, still safely inside, kicking up a storm. Doing some yoga or something, he is stretching! He is flexing! He is active.
Meanwhile, on the outside, I have the legs of my growing seven year old boy stretched across to my side of the bed. He sleeps in my room fairly regularly now, and I wouldn't pass this up for anything. I love the extra snuggles. I know these days are numbered.
Both of my boys are happily, contentedly snuggling against me and I wouldn't change any of it. I lay here in the dark quiet of night which became morning, the whirring white noise of the air conditioner drowning out any other noise. I have glimpses of the world outside in the cracks around my window blinds. The sun is rising, and daylight is here. Soon we will wake up, too. We will leave our warm cocoon and go out into the bright light of day. Soon Sam, too, will join us. I eagerly look forward to that day. But I will always cherish these quiet, cocooned moments with my boys, when my body and my presence was their protection and their comfort.
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