heartache

Aerie falls asleep on her side, her arms wrapped around whatever stuffed animal happens to be in the crib. Yes, I let her sleep with a stuffy or with a small pillow. So she's asleep, her leg thrown over the pillow, her arms hugging it. And it makes me smile. She sleeps like me. I'm constantly hugging or snuggling up to Allen or the pillow or the blankets. I rarely sleep on my back, never on my stomach. 

I lean over the crib, careful to keep quiet, and smell her hair, kiss her cheek, and resist the urge to pick her up and cuddle her. Bedtime. It's such a relief some days, yet tonight it feels like the end of a play date. I must wait another 10+ hours to play with her again, to hear her voice, to see her smile. I have to wait to pick out another outfit for her to wear, to comb her hair and to throw in her signature bow. To tickle her feet and watch her blow raspberries. To listen to her babble "dadadadada" and only occasionally, mumble "mummumumum." 

My brothers upstairs, playing guitar and singing some lonely country tunes. Allen is watching an old Disney cartoon that he had been watching with Aerie. Cartoons are always on nowadays. Mom and Dad are talking quietly in the living room, I can hear her laughter. And on the baby monitor, I can hear the radio playing softly and the small breathing sounds she's making. The grunts and groans as she dreams. She is not a quiet dreamer, that one. 

Last night Allen and I were lying in bed, talking about her. We are always talking about her. I was trying to explain how much I love her. How much it hurts sometimes, how much I love her. That beautiful ache in my heart that says "She is mine. And I made her. I made something so perfect and beautiful. She is everything." I don't know if he understood me, but I think he loves her just as fiercely. Just in a different way.