Midnight Bliss

It's midnight. My dreams of planting gardens and fields of wildflowers are suddenly interrupted by a wail. I reach over tiredly to put my glasses on, and I count silently in my head. 1. 2. 3. Oh, yep, there it is, the sound of two cries at the same time.
"Oh dear," I think. "They are both awake."
I throw the covers off and roll out of bed. I stumble across the dark hallway into their room. I go to the one who I think I heard cry first and hope the other one will just stop crying and patiently wait their turn.
I carry him into the kitchen and start making bottles. I scoop the formula in the water and silently ask, "Why?"
"Why can't they just sleep all night?"
"I'm so tired."
"urrrrr...grrrr....murrrrr"

The tired little boy grasps my arm and rests his head on my shoulder waiting for me to finish making bottles. His hair is like the waves tossed about in a storm. We make our way back to the bedroom, and I proceed to feed him.
Sigh
I am tired. 
As I feed him, I study his soft features. As he sucks the bottle dry, his eyelids close. I watch his chest moving up and down. I kiss the top of his head and breathe him in.
"This is midnight bliss," I tell myself.
I pull him closer not wanting to forget this moment.
This moment of midnight bliss. This moment that someday I'd try to remember. This moment that won't last forever. This moment to "stop and smell the roses" as people say.
I didn't care anymore about being tired, because suddenly I realized that someday I'd long to have a little baby to hold in the night.
I carried his sleepy frame back to his room, laid him in his crib, watched him for a moment.
I crossed the room to my other precious boy, picked him up, and started all over again.
This is midnight bliss.

*On a side note, I have to give a shout out to the husband, who had to get up at 4:30 to go work a 16 hour shift, yet he still kindly and calmly asked, "What can I do to help?"*