late night chats

I went to see my nieces yesterday. My nieces. That sounds so weird. Notice, I am already dropping sister from the equation. But she was there too, and she was tired out of her mind. They have two very distinct personalities. One, reminds me of Annabelle, a totally easy peaceful baby. The other one? Wants to be held all the time and can't function with a dirty diaper. Literally. She will stop eating and wait until she is changed. She is smart as a whip, she puts her arms where they need to go when she is being swaddled. Now the easy one may be smart too, but we will never know, because so much attention is spent on making Lilly comfortable that Sam is almost completely ignored. Except last night. The guest room is by the nursery and I am a light sleeper. I could hear one of them making some little noises. It was three o'clock so I waited to make sure the baby was really fussing before I checked on her. To my surprise, it was Sam. I picked her up and sat on the rocker. It was all quiet in the house. Just me and Sam. And I found myself missing those quiet, middle of the night, moments that I had with Annabelle, when we would chat a bit. I would tell her all the good stories, like about the first time I met Hyphen, or the time we danced on the parking garage, or the one my father-in-law always tells, about the night Hyphen was born. So here I was with my little niece and I found myself saying "Her is purdy. Her is a purdy girl. That's what an old lady I knew would say to you Sam, if she were here right now. And then she would say "is her hungry? yes her is." That is what she would say Sam. And she would be thrilled to death to hold you right now. Well, let's go find your mama. She is the one with the chi-chis."

Some how, it doesn't seem fair that these babies didn't get to be held in those soft, warm, arms-- whose hands that always glistened with lotion--and hear those sweet words. But such is life.