You’ll never remember these nights.
The nights I go to bed early for you.
The nights I leave my comfy spot on the couch beside your Daddy to snuggle and nuzzle you instead.
You’ll never remember these nights.
But I will.
The nights my 33-year-old body sleeps on the smallest sliver of my king-size bed.
The nights I spend silently fighting you for an adequate amount of blanket and space.
You’ll never remember these nights.
But I will.
The nights I lie in bed, asking God if I’m raising you right.
The nights I question if someone, anyone, could and would do it better.
You’ll never remember these nights.
But I will.
The nights I park myself next to you, listening to you breathe.
The nights I lie there, smelling your hair and studying your beautiful face.
You’ll never remember these nights.
But I will.
I will remember them for the rest of my life, because I’m your mother.
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