My nighttime date with Clair

Every night after bathtime, when the boys are tucked in and chattering in their beds a mile a minute, I get to spend quiet time with Clair.

We go into her room, close the door and put on her Sleep Sack (thanks, all, for recommending this most marvelous invention!) We turn on the fan and the little puppy night light. I ask Clair to switch off the bedroom light, which she finds to be great fun. After she's switched it  off with her little chubby finger, the room glows a calming blue from the night light.

Together, we sit in a rocking chair in the corner and I give her a bottle of milk, slightly warmed. She leans back against me and drinks. When she has had her fill, she hands me her bottle (flings it at me is a better description) and I kiss, kiss, kiss her, and lie her down in her crib with her pacis surrounding her. She curls up, and twists to her side, and pulls her blanket up to clutch in her hand. I leave her alone in her blue-lit room. She is usually asleep within 10 minutes.

When the boys were small, I never got to do this kind of thing. Maybe some better mother than I was able to find a way to comfortably snuggle with two infants, but I never could do it without Lester holding one and me holding the other. Cary and Dean have never wanted for love and affection, and still don't, so I don't think they missed out. But I always felt cheated a bit, and jealous of new Moms who could nap with their baby sprawled across their chest, or who could spend the last few minutes before bedtime, quiet and one-on-one with the baby, rocking or singing, snuggling and bonding.

So it is immensely satisfying for me to be able to spend this kind of time with Clair. Most times when I'm rocking with her, I study her face and her hands, or I breathe in the sweetness of her bouquet of curls. Sometimes, she absentmindedly plays with my fingers, or my hair, or she rubs my cheek or pinches my chin. Why her tiny little touches occasionally move me to tears, I can't explain.

Sometimes, honestly, I am so tired, I just lean my head back and close my eyes, grateful for the peacefulness, the quiet and the dark.

I recently read this article in the NYT, describing the way infants' heart rates go down when parents are holding them. Someone should do research on how calming and relaxing snuggling with one's infant can be to the parents.

At some point, when the boys are in big boy beds and not toddler beds, and Clair is a little more mature, we will start the ritual of bedtime reading (right now, reading is done all throughout the day and bedtime is bedtime is bedtime, nothing else). When that happens, I imagine all the kids will pile into one bed, and we'll embark on shared adventures together, reading and imagining and making memories. (Here's another really sweet NYT article about nighttime reading with kids.)

That will be beautiful too, I know. And it'll include all my babies, not just one, so that will be an undeniable bonus.

But when that day comes, I know there will be a small part of me that will miss the few minutes of one-on-one time I got to have with Clair, my daughter, my baby, my last little love.