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The second night.

People talk in hushed tones about the second night.

Maybe it was mentioned at antenatal class. Maybe you saw a friend emerge the next morning, looking like she’d been through something. Or maybe you’ve just been there yourself, in the depths of it all, and somehow you climbed your way out.

We’re having our second night right now. And I’m going to get this out before an inevitable hormone whirlwind strides along, sweeping me away: it has been pretty lovely.

We’d been well warned of what the second night typically brings, so my husband got all busy making sure we had everything we needed to ride it out. This simple gesture of understanding made me fall in love with him a little bit more. We ate dinner. We talked for ages about all the things: birth, the funny new words our toddler says, how getting stuff done has suddenly become less urgent. We watched some tv. We snuggled together; our new small bean camping out with us in this big, wide, second night of her life.

She just wants to be close, and really, that’s what we all need during this time. 

Not much sleep happened, but there’s time for that later. Tonight is when we soak it all in and navigate being a family of four. Each night she will so very gradually change, unfurling from her shell, becoming an independent little soul. She will need us less as these long wee hours slowly peel away. This night was supposed to be the night of all nights and here we are; happy, right here in it.

The first night was really hard. It was a lot. But here we are, in the thick of it all, apparently, and we’re doing okay.

It’s 4:53am and she has her arms wrapped around me. Her breathing is deep with the occasional snuffle. I’ve been watching mindless YouTube videos to stay awake until we can maybe try the bassinet again. But in this moment, l honoured to be in this space with her. Just going with things, learning each other slowly beneath the stars.

Thank-you, you long second night. You’ve shown me love and love again, all night long.

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