I little rustle begins to wake me. I roll over, face to the wall - a now-useless instinctual action meant to settle myself back to sleep.
I slide my hand under my cheek and the rustle quickens to a squirm. I roll back to face the center of the bed, nose to nose with the Mountain Man, the squirming Pie between us. I scoop the baby into my arms, and sleepily wonder how she can be so huge and so tiny at the same time. I pull her close.
Across the bed I hear a shuffle and a murmur as the Mountain Man rolls himself over, back now to us. He’s probably got an arm flung over the edge of the bed, pushed further and further as the Pie and I move in the night. I close my eyes as she roots and latches, snuggling close and pressing her feet into my thighs. Her hands search and settle on my breasts, rolling skin between her fingers.
I don’t remember falling asleep, but I know we did. I don’t remember whether the Pie was still nursing as I drifted off, but she probably was.
In the morning another round of rustling wakes me, this time the Mountain Man rolling over to climb out of bed. The Pie bolts up in bed, excited to be awake. The Mountain Man greets her with his excited whisper “Morning, Pie!” and she squeals with morning glee.
I grab that huge-tiny Pie and climb out of bed. We change a diaper, start the coffee and pull some clothes on. Only a few short hours before the Pie and I are back in bed for nap time, and few more hours before the whole family is back in our big bed.