I can hear you through the wall as I try to finish this project. You were snoring a few minutes ago and I chuckled to myself - since you barely snored at your sleep study, but often do at home. You have a stuffy nose tonight too, which isn't helping matters.
I went in to check on your breathing, since it sounded raspy on the monitor. And sure enough, it sounded worse up close. Fast. Shallow. Noisy. The usual for you now for a reason no one can explain. I wish I could give you a nebulizer treatment to settle it down, but I can't. Not until we figure out what is causing this. Your blood pressure will go too high and your heart too fast. Can you just slow down? Can't we all?
You noticed me standing over you and reach for me. Although it is the middle of the night and I should be writing, I want nothing more than to cuddle with you. You hand me your blanket to drape over my shoulder like a burp cloth, so you can rest your head on something comfy and familiar. This blanket/shoulder thing started the last time you were in the hospital (or was that three times ago?) They are starting to run together which makes me sad.
We sit in the rocking chair for a while and I feel your weight pressed against me as if you just can't get close enough. It's like you want to crawl back inside me - which is odd because you never were inside me. We rock. I smell your hair. After a while (certainly not long enough for me either) I need to put you back in bed. I say, "Nite-nite" and you whimper, so I hold you for a while longer. Then when you are ready (things are always on your terms) you raise your head and plant a big kiss on my face. You miss my lips but I don't mind.
I lay you back down in your bed. Hand you all your animals and your blanket. And you drift back to sleep.
And I go back to writing. But not my paper...
Nite-nite baby girl. I love you.