So I’m visiting with friends in CA right now. And they have three children. (I’m sure I’ve said this before but I’m not gonna assume that people are avidly reading everything I write.) The littlest is 7 months. Snuggling with him is better than any anti-depressant that I could possible go pick up at the pharmacy. Really and truly. My friend’s husband got home shortly before they moved and then I came to town like the day they moved into their house (I’m wrangling babies while they unpack stuff) so a couple of nights here and there the baby has been sleeping with me. I mean…come on. You’ve been on the boat forever and a day just to come back and have a baby in your bed? Nah. I gotta help my friends out. And so I offer and he occasionally sleeps with me. I mean of course they benefit from it because they get a stab at some couple time or just a chance to sleep. Deployments aren’t conducive to sleep and neither is raising three children on your own.
‘Truthfully though it’s for selfish reasons. Mr G and I will have been married for two years in August and we’ve been together for 3-4 years (we never officially dated we just kind of fell into a relationship) and we have no children of our own. Holding the baby, especially at night, just puts me in such a state. All of the arguing and the back and forth and the miscommunication, lack of communication just all of the pain and hurt doesn’t matter anymore. Because there is this baby. And he is soft and warm and he smells like milk, lavender and…..sweetness. I call the scent love. He’s snuggly. Round cheeks, chubby thighs and cute little dimpled hands that wrap themselves in my shirt or keep a visegrip on my finger. And for the next couple of hours until the sun rises he trusts me. He hunkers and trusts that he’ll be fed and warm with me. It’s nice not to just be needed but trusted as well.