The Bug cries and I slip out of bed to retrieve her from her bassinet. I quickly get back under the covers with her, happily sliding back into the warmth of the duvet, the comfort of the flannel sheets. Her head snuggles into the crook of my arm as she starts to nurse, the dim glow of the bedside lamp falling on her downy head. She falls into a sleepy rhythm that half-hypnotizes me. Her fingers curl through strands of my hair and her eyes meet mine as we gaze at each other. Her hand reaches up, fingers brushing my cheek, my lips and then go back to my hair. Her nursing rhythm slows and finally stops as her eyelids droop over her sleepy blue eyes. I cuddle her gently, so as not to wake her, my hand softly stroking her fuzzy little head, my heart full of a love so intense that it's nearly painful, nearly takes my breath away, this final baby of mine. Her thumb stabs at her face, seeking her mouth. Finding it, she falls more deeply to sleep.
Easing out of bed, I lift her up and gently deposit her back in her bassinet. As I place her on the mattress, pulling her blankets up around her shoulders, she lets out a huge burp, smiles in her sleep and starts to snore.