Eleven Minutes 

Reagan isn’t your best all night sleeper. She has probably slept through the night entirely 10 times, maybe. And she just turned 18 months. 

Over the last month she has seemed to get a bit more demanding in her needs in the middle of the night. She has four teeth she is cutting and I think that’s why she is up more than once a night most of the time. 

Last night at 12:17, I could hear her crying. It kills me in the middle of the night so I go to her quickly. When I arrive she is standing in her crib with her wuba (binki) in hand. She reaches up and wraps her legs around my waist as I pull her into me. I try to sit down in the rocker but she points at the door and whines. I ask, “do you want a baba?” And she nods yes. 

In the kitchen I sit her on the floor as I make the bottle in the dark. She looks up and says “mama” and I say “Reagan” back. And I know she is smiling, this is our game. Her bottle is done and she happily takes it as I swoop her up again.

In her room she drinks her bottle as I rock her. A couple ounces later, she hands it back. I ask for a kiss. She purses her lips and kisses me good night again. I lay her back down, give her foxy and tuck her in. 

I return to my bed. Hoping she will sleep the rest of the night. It is 12:28. She needed eleven minutes from me tonight. The number hits me for some reason. The last eleven minutes were dedicated to loving my baby, meeting her needs and making her feel secure. 

So while the multiple ups and downs throughout the nights can be tiring they are also incredibly special. Some day Reagan won’t need me for eleven minutes in the middle of the night. And my quiet moments spent rocking and looking at my sweet baby will end. So I will love every exhausting moment, because these moments will become memories sooner than I realize.