Late last night.

She couldn't sleep, and that is weird. Georgia has always been a good sleeper. (And I write that at my peril, seeing as I don't want to be jinxed.) Holding her, shushing her, swaying her - all a no go. All ANTI-go's. She thrashed and cried louder. Finally I just sat her on the ground to collect my thoughts and sat next to her, my back against her crib. She sobbed a little, then crawled a step to me and collapsed her head on my leg. I felt my patience restore and ran my fingers up and down her little back. She crawled into my lap. I started singing to her. She looked up at me, her look. That forever "Georgia" look. I gathered her up, she wrapped her short legs around my waist and laid her head on my chest while I wrapped her Blankie around us both and sang the songs I sang when she was tiny(er.) She wasn't falling asleep and I didn't care. Song after song after song. Sitting on the ground, legs going numb, back reminding me what a bad condition its in, but I couldn't break the spell. She hasn't been a cuddly baby since she was in the womb and I'd learned to accept it. Tonight was special. Every once in awhile she'd pop up, with groggy eyes and sleepy smile, wave and say "i-aye" and crash her head against my chest again feigning sslumbe. The give away is always that girls feet. She dances even sitting still, wiggling and pointing her toes. When I took a deep breath, she'd mimic me and we'd laugh a little. She started getting heavy and her breaths grew even and hypnotic. I knew she'd be unhappy if I just tried to put her back in that crib, so I took her down the stairs and showed her the sleeping house. Opened the door and she waved bye-bye to the sleeping street and trees. She waved nightnight to the tv where I'm pretty sure she thinks Daniel Tiger lives. Blankie was waiting in her bed, with Bear, and her night light's glow. Now I'm lying in bed with Jon deeply asleep and no sounds from upstairs in that little colorful room. I'm happy. In daily life I know I miss opportunities, but I didn't miss that one, and that one mattered a lot.