(Mamalode, May 2016)
He’s fallen asleep, finally, finally.
His teething mouth is clamped onto the Ergo strap.
Is he breathing?
I check.
Yes, phew, breathing.
I am so tired. He is so tired.
He’s been up every hour the last two nights.
Out of the blue, after settling into a nice pattern of sleeping for 6-7 hour chunks, followed by a quick 3am feeding, then cuddling in the big bed til 7am. It had become a lovely routine.
We took it for granted.
He hates to nap. He needs to nap.
I need for him to nap. Desperately.
Those naps save me.
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