And Ellie and I are hanging out on the sofa watching Eat Pray Love and drinking a baba and tea. Ellie keeps cracking up.
Why are we downstairs at 5am when we normally don’t get until until at least 7:30? Because I woke up at 4am (I’m pretty sure the milkman woke me up) and couldn’t get back to sleep because I was pretty sure that Ellie hadn’t woken up at all last night. And I wrestled with checking in on her and not checking in on her.
I imagined all the things that could have happened to her, from SIDS to kidnapping through the window. And I imagined telling the doctors in the emergency room that I wasn’t sure when she’d last been fine, that I had woken at 4am but didn’t check on her because I wanted her to sleep through the night for the first time ever.
I checked on her.
What I am, NEW?!
And so here we are at 5am, watching Eat Pray Love and drinking babas and tea.
