Mendolonium

It’s hot and the baby is tired and hungry.  I carry her into the bedroom and shut the door; muffling the noise of the boys playing.  I balance her on my hip, one arm wrapped around her sweaty body, as I turn on the window air conditioner and draw the shades.  She bounces in my arms, buries her head into my chest, and wiggles with excitement.  She knows what AC and a dark room mean.  We climb onto the bed and I lean back against the wall and pull her up close to nurse.  Her eyes flutter closed, but she is not asleep.  She takes long, hungry drinks.  Her free hand holds a small, fuzzy blanket that she works over and over in between her tiny, plump fingers.  I think about grabbing my phone on the nightstand to pass the time catching up on email.  But as she nurses a beautiful tidal wave of hormone induced relaxation – oxytocin – crashes over me and I sink lower into the bed, instead of being “productive”.  After a few minutes she relaxes, her breathing even, asleep.  She is still latched on securely without any sign of letting go.  I notice how long her hair is getting and tuck a damp curl behind her ear.  I imagine that the dark, cool room, holding my perfectly content baby daughter, is what heaven might feel like.  I feel my own brain growing fuzzy.  We curl together very still.  The air conditioner kicks on and I wake up, the baby drops off of my breast.  I carefully lay her down in her crib, smiling as a rivulet of cream trickles from her mouth.  I go to leave the room, my hand on the doorknob, when I change my mind.  The room and the sound of my baby’s breath draw me back in and I sprawl out on our crisp white sheets letting the oxytocin and the hum of the AC lull me to sleep.

This entry was posted on Tuesday, August 7th, 2012 at 4:00 pm and is filed under Anna. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. Both comments and pings are currently closed.