Last night, Clare slept in her bed from bedtime (or “bednight”, as we affectionately call it) until 6am. It should have been a victory, but I have to admit that I missed her, that I felt her absence, that from about 5am on I laid there in bed, half-awake, listening for a cry or for that pitter-patter of her feet on the hardwood floors, of her running to join us in our bed until it’s time to get up. She finally did that at 6am, and we all snuggled under the covers for another hour, with me putting off getting up until a little later than I should have, just in order to hold her and listen to her breathe.
(That photo above is from when she was 9 months old. How crazy is it that that was eight months ago?)