Here I am.
Lying on the floor.
Next to my daughter’s bed.
A reminder of my failure to get her to sleep on her own like her three big sisters.
Have I become a statistic? The youngest gets whatever they want?
Or perhaps I am just too tired to fight.
Ha- let’s not play ignorance- they are likely one in the same.
I am tired and she was born to fight out of necessity.
So, here we are.
Prisoners in our own way.
Dependent on one another.
I remember convincing him that if he agreed to the fourth, she would be “mine”.
I took full responsibility, although he would never agree to anything but equal, which made me love him even more.
And yet, here I am. Lying next to her bed and as much as he has literally and physically attempted to take my place, there is no substitute for her of me.
I lie next to her and think, how I can make the most of this quiet time?
Unfortunately, it is forced, which is not a lovely place to be when you are trying to meditate.
So some days, I sleep. Others, I seethe in resentment of being on my 16th hour of parenting while he lounges on the couch.
And sometimes, I think, one day, I’ll miss this.
They won’t let me in their room.
Their room won’t be here.
I lie and wait. For that heavy breathing.
I leave, relieved, both for that she breathes and that I have the chance to catch my own.