Midnight Mothering; An Ode to Newborn Days

Dark house, no one awake.
Sleep so deep, cut too short.
Tiny whimpers.
Flailing hands.
Broke free of the swaddle again.
Together 40 weeks, met two nights ago.
Engulfed in loving you, memorizing you.
Tiny whimpers.
Fuzzy eyes, sleep deprived.
Fourth feeding tonight.
Clock showing 2:47am.
Scoop you up, diaper change.
Sole nightlight glowing.
Swaddle tightened, rooting, sleepy.
Milk’s not in yet, cluster feeding.
Nose grazing fuzzy newborn hair.
Breathe you in, don’t exhale.
Dark house, only us awake.
Dad rolls over, sound asleep.
Clock showing 3:13am.
Tiny cooing. Newborn sighs.
Quiet hands, fast asleep.
Lay you down, sneak away.
Two feet distance, just arm’s reach.
Heavy eyes, back to sleep.
Only two more times we’ll rinse, repeat.
Sunrise shining, coffee please.
Baby’s sleeping in it seems.