Beautiful Dreamer

Beautiful dreamer, wake unto me,
Starlight and dewdrops are waiting for thee;
Sounds of the rude world, heard in the day,
Lull'd by the moonlight have all pass'd away!
Beautiful dreamer, queen of my song,
List while I woo thee with soft melody;
Gone are the cares of life's busy throng,
Beautiful dreamer, awake unto me!
Beautiful dreamer, awake unto me!
- Stephen Foster, 1864

Mum and Dad would sing this lovely lullaby to Reuben on their frequent visits after he left hospital and the aria plays in my head now, imagining their duet. It will be another year before I see them again.

Last night the boys slept in my bed so that it would be easier for me to feed Reuben during the night via his feeding tube into his stomach and this is how I envisaged it would look, peaceful beautiful dreamers as they are now here this afternoon, except that it was 12am and Callum had fallen out of the bed and bumped his head and thus ensued a two hour attempt to lull him back to sleep.

Reuben is quite the opposite: when, as a newborn, you watch Mummy and Daddy tuck you in up in your crib at night, week after week becoming month after month, you soon learn independence. If you cry in the night, it's not your parent's arms that can cradle you, but the nurses in the ICU. And because of what was painfully missed then, I overcompensate with Callum and if he wants to snuggle into me as he is this very moment as I tap, tap, tap away, now asleep, then I indulge in that luxury.

Miss Mum and Dad. Miss them missing out on the boys at their toddler, mischievous, funny best.