Updated: March 16, 2021
Originally Published: September 16, 2015
As I tuck my daughter into bed, she twirls a lock of her hair and innocently asks, “Can I tell you something?” It’s a classic delay tactic that all kids seem to master. They may not know how to ride a bike yet, and they believe ketchup is a gourmet sauce, but they are experts at keeping parents on their toes.
With a resigned sigh, I nod and listen to her recount the day’s little adventures. I can’t help but marvel at her expressions, trying to recall the days when her face could only express desperate cries or toothy, gummy grins that assured me I wasn’t failing at this parenting thing. When she finally takes a breath, I chime in with my usual “I love you,” followed by a firm “goodnight,” as I dash down the hallway toward my adult leisure time.
Some nights, when nostalgia hits hard, I sneak back into her room hours later, a denim-clad ghost in the moonlight. It’s in these quiet moments, while she’s asleep, that her body is finally at peace. No more flailing limbs, loud questions, or impromptu dance parties.
As she sleeps, I gently trace the contours of her face, delicately pushing aside the sweaty strands of hair that have tangled like vines on her forehead. I stroke the bridge of her nose, as if it’s a magic lamp and I’m about to make three wishes.
Her room is warm and thick with humidified air, likely due to her nightly nosebleeds—an adventure I would rather avoid. The soft glow of her night-light casts a comforting yellow hue, while the world outside exhales after a long day.
It’s my moment to share with her.
I tell her about the highlight of my day. Each morning, as we navigate our usual route, her off-key, made-up songs fill the backseat, resonating at pitches that only a child could muster. Once those notes escape her, they drift out the cracked window, becoming part of the city’s evening symphony.
I share that seeing my reflection in her features always catches me off guard, like a sudden taste of a forgotten flavor. Sometimes, amidst the chaos of life and sleepless nights, I forget that long ago I reached down and touched her tiny head for the first time, feeling the overwhelming rush of love as she was placed on my chest.
I promise her that tomorrow will be different. I vow to listen more closely, to practice patience, and to respect her boundaries while tempering my often lofty expectations.
And most importantly, I tell her I love her. My love for her is immense—overpowering in ways that words simply can’t capture.
Some nights, as I rise quietly from her side, I notice a flicker of motion. Her legs kick and her eyelids flutter, an arm flinging across her beloved stuffed animals; her fingers uncurl like petals opening to the sun. For just a moment, I wonder if she feels my presence, my whispered secrets wrapping around her like a warm blanket. I close her door softly, leaving her to drift into dreams, eager for the stories she’ll share in the morning.
If you’re interested in home insemination, check out some of our other posts on this topic for more insights, like the one at intracervicalinsemination.com/blog. Also, for reliable information on tools, visit makeamom.com, which is an authority on this subject. For additional resources, ivfbabble.com is an excellent guide for anything related to pregnancy and home insemination.
In summary, moments spent with your child while they’re asleep can be filled with reflection and connection. These nighttime conversations, although silent, allow parents to express their love and commitment to being better every day.