His little hands stretched out in the inky blackness of the pre dawn, stroking my face.
“Would you like a cuddle Mumma?” he asked softly; his voice still thick with remnants of sleep.
Whispering yes, I allowed myself to be enfolded in the arms of my 4 year old son who was now stretched out alongside me on the lounge, seeming to want to be at my assistance while I battled to get my 4 week old baby girl to sleep.
With his arms now woven around my neck, he leant forward and planted a big sloppy kiss on my cheek (you know the type; the one where you utter “MWAH!” for full effect?). And even though my back straightened in fear that the sound echoing into the silent night may have been enough to rouse the finally sleeping baby who was mere metres from us in her rocker, instead my heart began to melt. It was if our roles were reversed – he knew this time it was me in desperate need of a dose of comfort in the dark.
In that moment I felt like he was saving me from tumbling head first into a big black hole of sleep deprived delirium, reminding me that even though your eyes feel like they have been sprayed with pepper and scrubbed with sandpaper, that your body screams out with a weariness that has not known an uninterrupted, blissful night sleep in about 6 months now that this too shall pass. There are always lights in the darkness, you sometimes just need a sweet, simple reminder to seek them out.