My bed is crowded with an extra body as I prepare to find my rest. I smile and gather the little boy into my arms and carry him to his couch. He doesn't like to sleep on his bed. His sister is already asleep on the other couch. I'm not sure why I even keep beds in their rooms really. The boy coughs in his sleep. I fill a humidifier to help him breathe easier throughout the night. Finally, I can go to bed.
The bed shakes as someone crawls into bed next to me. I smile and make room.
11: 42 pm
The Boy cries and crawls out of bed. He coughs as he finds his way to his couch. I get up and find his cough medicine. His dad had tried to give him some earlier but the boy wouldn't take it. I try anyway hoping that in the sleepy haze he'll forget about how much he hates taking medicine. He hasn't but still he took some. I fix him some juice to help get rid of the taste in his mouth. He settles back down. I go back to bed.
A mumbled cry wakes me from slumber. I begrudgingly leave the warmth and comfort of my bed to follow the cries. In the darkness of the living room I find Boy Who Doesn't Talk (aka Baby Butter) standing there holding his monkey close to his heart. He coughs. I can hear that he is wheezing slightly as well. I go to him as he lays down in front of the dark Christmas tree in the dining room. I plug in the tree to give us some light and hold him. I rock him in my arms. Usually he does not allow this sort of comfort. He coughs again. He isn't running a fever. For that I am thankful. He sits up though he makes no move to leave me. He is still wheezing slightly so I set him down.
12: 24 am
I set up his nebulizer. He actually allows me to place the doggy mask by his face. I am frightened by the sense of helplessness. After a few minutes I go get his pillows off the couch and mine off my bed. I grab the big Spiderman quilt I made. He has abandoned his breathing treatment for the pillows. I show him he can have both. We lay there together as he takes in the fogged air. I feel helpless as I watch him watch me. He smiles slightly. We lay there together for a long time. I tell him to close his eyes. He says no. Boy Who Doesn't Talk does talk from time to time.
12: 49 am
I move to a nearby chair. It is hard for me to lay on the floor. I'm not as young as I use to be. But I can't go back to bed and leave him alone. Boy Who Doesn't Talk sits on his knees and talks in a language I cannot understand to the tree. He is excited and bounces on his knees.
He still admires the Christmas tree from his place under it. Most of the ornaments he placed on it himself. I wonder what he is thinking. The wheezing has past for now, I am thankful. "What's that?" he asks when I join him again. "Snowman" I whisper. "What's that" he asks and points to another ornament. "Dragonfly." "What's that?" he asks again. "An angel. What's that?" I ask him this time. "Car. Vroom." "And that?" I ask. "Ball!"
I remind him it is night-night time. He shakes his head at me and pokes out his bottom lip. I wonder when I'll get sleep again. He drags the Spiderman quilt into the living room and lays back down under the Christmas tree. I retrieve the quilt "Huh-uh" he says shaking his head and palm no. He goes and gets the quilt Nana made him. He and his monkey look almost ready for sleep. Almost.
The Boy is wide awake. I yawn and yearn desperately for my bed. The boy pats my head in comfort. "Heart" he says as he holds up the first Christmas ornament I bought his dad and my's first Christmas, two red hearts with each of our names written on them. I smile at the memory.
He's starting to wheeze again. The last breathing treatment has kept us up over two hours now. I don't know what to do. He's rearranging the ornaments on the tree and seems very happy doing this. Occasionally he lays down with me but only lasts a few moments before he up and busy again.
Sometime around 3:30 am
Sweet sweet slumber. Thank you Jesus.