Drink Coffee, Rock Babies, Pray

It's 3:30 in the morning and I sit in the rocking chair, rocking. My eyes are burning, dry and gritty as my eyelids flutter open and closed nearly in rhythm with my rock rock rocking in the light of the glittery snowman night light. I am in Bears room but she is downstairs having a sleep over in Chick's room. In Bears bed, on pink striped flannel Hello Kitty sheets sleeps a tiny peanut of a 3 year old girl. We call her Frizz. She doesn't speak, and is painfully shy. She barely looks any of us in the eye but is quite content to snuggle in our arms. Now she sleeps, deeply, breathing snortily from a stuffed up nose. Her hair is a cloud of black cotton candy tufting around her tiny face. There are white tracks of tears on her thin brown cheeks. So why then am I rocking still? Because in my arms lies Curly, Frizz's little sister. Curly is nearly 2 but no bigger than large 9 month old. She slept soundly until 3 but woke up frightened and lonely. I hold her close, her teeny little body warming next to my heart, her soft loose blue-black ringlets smelling of Johnsons Baby Shampoo, the sound of her sucking seriously on her thumb as I rock rock rock in the dark. I feel her relax and get heavy, her breathing deepens and her thumb slips from her mouth as she falls back asleep.

I'm so tired I feel nauseaus. I have to get up in a few hours and go teach a class and I peek at the clock counting the time left that I can still spend sleeping. I put Curly back into the crib and settle her under the warm blankets. I tiptoe out of the bedroom and down the hall to my own warm bed. And I hear another cry.

It's 4:15 in the morning and I sit in the rocking chair, rocking. My eyelids are closed over my eyes that feel full of ground glass and flames as I rock rock rock in the light of the glittery snowman night light. I cradle Frizz in my arms and rock rhythmically while murmuring nonsensical nighttime words in her ear. I don't know what she understands. She arrived at dinnertime and I've only heard her grunt or whimper and she hasn't responded to even the simplest "yes" or "no" question. I may not know what words she understands but I know she is confused and scared. I understand what she feels. She misses her mommy, her house, her 6 siblings - all dispersed elsewhere except for Curly. She was probably used to sleeping in a bed with siblings, or used to falling asleep on the couch in a fully lit room, or making a nest under the coffee table... not used to sleeping alone in a bed, alone in a room, in the dark. I hold her closer until her breathing deepens, her body relaxes, and her ring finger and middle finger fall from her mouth. I slide her back into Bears bed, back onto the soft flannel sheets and under the warm comfortors. I slip an oversized CareBear next to her for comfort and I tiptoe out of the room and down the hall to my own warm bed. And I hear another cry.

It's 5 in the morning and my eyes won't stay open at all as I sit in the rocking chair, rocking. Curly is bundled in my arms, wrapped in a blanket. She falls instantly back into deep sleep and I slip her into the crib easily. I drag/drift/bump down the hallway to my own warm bed and am just slipping into my own flannel sheets when I hear another cry.

It's 5:15 in the morning and I calculate that I can probably get almost an hour of sleep if I can get Frizz to fall back asleep quickly. I carry her into my room and settle her into bed between my husband and I. She curls instantly into the warmth of him and sucks on her fingers as she finds her way back to sleep. I smile and turn over and fall right into my own dreams of teaching while wearing my pajamas and I'm embarrassed and crying... and I wake to realize that Curly is crying out again.

It's 5:45 am and I am laying in Bears bed, on her pink striped flannel Hello Kitty sheets and I am curled around Curly, all 15 teeny pounds of her. Her curls tickle my nose and as I turn my head I see the red digital numbers on Bears Hello Kitty clock and I groan and feel the prick of tears in my dry gritty tired eyes. I'm so tired. And Curly is so scared and confused. I hold her close and we both drift off.

I awaken with a start and leap from the bed to see that it is 6:20 am and I have 10 more minutes to sleep if I want. But both Curly and Frizz are sleeping soundly and I stumble instead to the kitchen to start the coffee. It's all I can do. Drink coffee, rock babies, and pray.

Frizz and Curly leave on Monday morning... we'll miss their little tiny faces, but not the sleepless night!