Just One More Kiss

It’s hard to let her go.

2:45am comes. I feed her. And then it’s 4:30am and I’m waking up with her still in my arms. I finally surrender to the reality of my own sleep needs and return her to her bed but only after ten more kisses to her cheeks.

She settles down quickly. I don’t. My brain won’t shut off after foolishly allowing it to think through the new week ahead. Thankfully she stirs again; her cry for food is ever clear. I scoop her up and even though it’s 5am, feeding and holding her is better than over-processing life. She’s simple. She falls back to sleep.

A gas bubble causes her to wriggle and wriggle some more until it’s free. She doesn’t fully wake though she utters a quick cry, the kind that has no clear beginning but is over just as soon as it began.

I’ve started to doubt her hunger. I think she knows what cry will get her from her bassinet into my arms. This last feeding was akin to eating a piece of cornbread just because–comfort food. I still hold her close and kiss her forehead for the tenth time without regret.

By now it’s 6:10. My back aches from the odd position I’m sitting in (as I hold her and thumb these words onto my phone). My eyes hurt.

I can’t help but think that this is why God doesn’t sleep. He’s got too many children to hold, too many kisses to plant on cheeks and foreheads, too many quick cries to soothe. Thankfully his back is solid and his eyes don’t know how to droop. His only weakness is his greatest strength–he loves enough to keep us in his arms.

One day she’ll be too big for this extended nighttime bonding. Until then, here’s one more kiss, kiddo.

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