A poem about our bedtime ritual: Sitting on the Stair

I’m sitting on the stair as my baby falls asleep,

She prefers to know I’m here than to count some little sheep.

It’s too dark, too noisy, too scary for me to leave the stair,

I know she’s playing me a bit but I remember being there.

When every noise and movement filled me with such fright,

And I snuck downstairs for comfort almost every night.

For me it was the shadows that crept into my room,

It always felt like morning could never come too soon.

So I sit upon my stair and wait for sleep to come,

Sometimes she’ll peer around the door to check I haven’t gone.

I walk her back to bed and kiss her on the nose,

I tell her that I love her as she settles down to doze.

Then I leave her room and quietly return to my stair,

I’m scared to move too quickly just in case she stirs.

I know by now how long she needs to reach the land of nod,

Then I can slowly slip away knowing she’s tucked in bed.

Sometimes it dark and cold out here upon this lonely stair,

But it brings such comfort to my girl to know that I am here.

One day she will not ask me to do this little job,

Then all thought of how I find it cold won’t mean a thing at all.

These little things we all do when our wee ones are still wee,

The things that bring such comfort now will soon be memories.

Like bedtime tales and lullabies, like the goodnight hug and kiss,

Like dressing her for bed each night and checking her teeth are brushed.

I cherish every time I’m asked to sit and wait,

Even if sometimes it can run on pretty late.

Some day soon I’ll be begging her to spend her time with me,

When she’s off with her friends and prefers their company.

I’m sitting on the stair as my baby falls asleep,

And I’ll sit here every night if that is what she needs.

 

Angela McCann

Exhausted Belfast mum of one. Many weaknesses, few strengths. Highly anxious, shopaholic, chocoholic, bookworm.

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