February 23, 10:23 PM. My husband was out that night and I was exhausted. Despite my best renditions of lullaby classics like “Sleep, Ethan, Sleep”, “Please, Please, Sleep” and “Whyyyyy” – Ethan opted for tears, many, many, tears. So, I picked him up from his bassinet, held him close, then placed him on top of me as we both lay down. He calmed and a gentle silence fell over the room. We/he finally slept.

We haven’t slept like that since. Nowadays, when I place him on top of me, he immediately arches his neck up and whimpers to be placed somewhere else. I think he prefers a location with less ribcage and more mattress cushioning.

While I’m glad I remember that night on February 23, I’m hoping that date loses its significance. Despite the tears (his and mine), I desperately hope that wasn’t the last time he would fall asleep on me. Don’t grow up too fast, please.