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Toss. Turn. Sigh. Repeat.
Postpartum anxiety kept hitting you in explosive bursts like crash cymbals. Intrusive worries about whether your newborn was breathing or not ruthlessly stormed your brain. Surging heart palpitations that ebbed and flowed like the ocean tide weren't helping your internally erratic state.
She hadn't wailed those gut-wrenching cries in over an hour. It was a slivered slot of time to catch up on your precious slumber, yet your melatonin was overrun by an irritating influx of cortisol. There was also a stinging sensation behind your eyelids due to your ruptured sleep schedule. It felt like chlorine or lemon juice had seeped into your sockets ever since day and night swapped places.
The speckled sky of stars trickled through the linen drapes, painting moonbeams on the bedroom carpet and walls. By the looks of it, you'd undoubtedly be awake to behold the moment they metamorphosed into golden rays of dawn.
Heart thumping, stomach churning, and chest constricting, you surrendered your chance of a reposeful night of rest and silently slid out of bed. Harry was gently snoring on his side, facing away from you and completely dead to the world. Lucky him.
You padded over to the bassinet across the room. The moon made it just visible enough to see the tiny bundle that was half you and half your husband sleeping there. Your trembling hand reached down and lightly rested on your daughter's belly. It had become a habit lately. Your eyes couldn't help but snap open in the middle of the night, the insomnia-induced anxiety getting you on your feet to check if the human you were responsible for was still alive.
When you felt the fast breaths she took, relief immediately flooded your bloodstream. You stayed by her until you were at ease with the steady rise and fall of her chest, then eventually tucked yourself back under the covers and leaned against the headboard.
You were wide awake now, and it seemed like it was going to be another all-nighter. Jealousy festered inside you because of Harry and how he could effortlessly sleep through the night without an ounce of panic. He'd been so gracious with heaving himself out of bed and calming the baby whenever it was his turn, a true natural when you needed it most. And during those instances, you pretended to be asleep so you didn't worry him. It was hard enough soothing one agitated person, let alone two.
The clock on the nightstand flicked from 2:36 to 2:37. You bit your fingernails to pass the time. The weight and warmth of Harry beside you pulled you back down to earth. It reminded you that you weren't doing this on your own. He was here. He was cheering you on. He was on the same page. He loved you unconditionally.
Almost as if he could hear your reeling thoughts about him, you heard his snores get cut short by a deep inhale before his hand subconsciously flopped against your thigh. Fatigued fingers felt around until his hot and heavy palm spread on your skin, giving it a tender squeeze. He then rolled onto his stomach with a raspy grunt and turned his head so that it was facing you.
