It only seems that way because we're all hearing the same stillness.
There are many of us awake, pacing, shushing, sitting in our chairs,
wrapped up in them and the quiet of the world.
There are many of us awake.
Gently holding their little hand to our face as they feed, looking down at them
as they look up to you.
Skin to skin and whispering heartbeats.
There are many of us awake.
Some still tender from birth. Scooping up their softness with tears in our eyes.
A new and powerful attunement.
A lifetime of knowing each other, in only the way a new mother and baby could.
There are many of us awake.
Exhausted and in love, tired and tangled. Doubting whether we are doing this right,
while our babies look at us as if we scattered the stars in the sky.
There are many of us awake.
With eyes that open before hearing their cries, with ears that listen for his puff of their breath,
with a body that aches, and sways, as the sun slowly stretches its arms.
There are many of us awake.
In all this tired magic, holding sunshine in human form, as the moon lazily hangs in the sky.
There are many of us awake.
It's 2am, and your baby is sleeping.
A moment you won't miss, and will all at once. A memory of when all it took was you,
your smell, your presence, your touch.
And suddenly such a small hour takes up the biggest space in your heart.
Lots of love,
Jess
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