Two o’clock in the morning. She woke, as usual, to the distorted audio from the monitor on the bedside table, the little green and red LED lights flashing in time with the baby’s wailing.
“S’your turn,” she mumbled, nudging the husband-shaped lump of duvet next to her before rolling back over onto her side.
Several minutes passed and she lingered somewhere in the limbo between sleep and consciousness; when she woke again it was to a blessed lack of noise from the monitor. The only sounds that came now were a voice whispering calming little nothings and the gentle susurrus of the baby’s breathing.
“Thank god,” she murmured, dropping her head and letting her eyes drift shut again just as her husband let out a muffled snore into the pillow next to her.
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