Sleeping Angels

When my kids were babies, I did co-sleeping with them off and on as screaming dictated. I have such a clear memory of holding a tiny Felix, marveling at the smallness of his hands and wondering what those hands would grow up to do. I loved those co-sleeping moments.  I loved the mornings later on when they would be brought into bed first thing in the morning and we would breast feed.  Later on I loved it when they would wake up at sparrow fart and make their way groggily around to my side of the bed and climb in to finish their sleep off with the comfort of a mamma cuddle.

These days they dont do that. I think the days of the Seraquel Coma, of mamma being out of it until 10am, have meant they dont even think to do it anymore. In their minds, mamma just isn't available to them first thing in the morning. That we have lost that makes me sad.

I miss their bedtime cuddles so much. I want to kick the husband out of the bed and sleep with a kid either side of me. I want to revel in the smell of their hair, the softness of their skin and the complete openness and joy with which they snuggle up, tangling their limbs with mine so I no longer know where I stop and they start.  They are the reason I fight this damned illness every day, fight the desire to drink, find the will to eat and why I fight to stay alive. I need the close reassurance that comes from their peaceful breathing and an arm draped casually across my face to remind myself that I am needed here, and that by these two sleeping angels at least, I am loved.