My daughter and I had a pretty good thing when it came to her sleep routine.
I say “had” because ever since we brought the baby home from the hospital, I slacked off of on it. Nobody’s fault, but mine
Our routine was pretty simple.
After we finished using the potty, we would go to her room. The bedroom lights would be turned off, but the hallway light to provides some illumination (is that a word?).
We pray. We say our affirmation. Then we go to sleep.
Actually, she would lay down on her bed and I would remain at the foot of her bed. There I would sit, pray, meditate or worry excessively at everything I couldn’t control. Such as, the length of time it would take for her to fall asleep.
This started as a means to ensure that she would stay in her bed.
Little did I know that she found comfort in those moments. She liked that I stayed behind. Maybe because it gave her a sense of calm against the “scary monsters”. Or possibly because she wasn’t alone in the dark. I don’t know.
Today, I stayed with her until she drifted off to sleep, like we used to do. I realized then, these moments are just as important for me as it is for her. It’s our moment to connect in her dim lit bedroom. In the dark, as she drifts off in the unknown I’m there with her.
In the silence, she hears me say the same words I whispered in her ear in the first few moments of her birth
“I got you. “