When we sleep, we are at our most vulnerable. To recharge, and get the essential rest of sleep, we have to trust in the safety our surroundings, so that we can look within, and reengage with our internal self. When people have to sleep in places that are not safe, the rest that comes is insufficient. This affects every function in the waking hours, and over time can create stress, anxiety, and can crush the human spirit.
When we sleep with another person, we are putting our trust in that person. We are saying that that we believe that they will not harm us, and that they will protest us from outside factors, and our internal imaginations that may bring fear into our deams.
It wasn’t a special night. There wasn’t anything extraordinary that happened that day. Diana had some things she was finishing up for work, so I retired to bed without her. As I do periodically, I picked up Buffy, our dog, and cuddled with her in bed.
Like how the love for a dog is it’s own unique shade of blue, the feeling of a dog next to you as you cuddle, is similar to cuddling with a human that you love but different. There is a connection between a human and a dog that crosses species, that goes beyond our nature as animals vying for survival. It’s felt deeply, different, and most profoundly when sharing a bed.
Buffy will never ask to cuddle but when I put her on the bed, and pull her close she will stay, even though there are sometime some disgruntled grunts as we settle down. Sometimes we spoon, other times she lays in the crook of my arm with her head on my shoulder, and that night she lay facing me as we both were on our sides.
I looked into Buffy’s eyes. Slowly, I saw her eyes begin to close. I could see her third eye lid (dog’s have another eyelid btw), slowly begin to close moving sideways across her eye and then open back up. After a couple minutes, it relaxed letting her eyes completely close. It felt wonderful that my eyes looking into hers provided a feeling of safety for my puppy.
That a couple years ago.
Last week, Diana and I heard Ollie’s footsteps as we settled down on the couch in front of the television. She had put him to bed, and we both thought that he was ready to sleep for the night. I walked over and asked him if he needed something, and he asked, “can I have a little bit more time with you daddy?” Time. This was just a matter of time, all he wanted was time. Not an extra story, or a toy, or any materialistic thing. He just wanted time. I said sure, and headed up stairs.
I cuddled up in bed with him as he requested, and we lay there in the soft light of his night light laying on our sides facing each other. I held his hand. I offered him a story, and asked if he wanted to talk about something, he just shook his head, “no.” I looked into his eyes and he looked into mine silently.
Eye contact can feel strange in conversation, and other social interactions. It can be intense and difficult to handle. There was none of that with Ollie. After a couple minutes, his eyes began to close slowly. They would open back up, focusing on my eyes and then his eyelids would relax and begin to come together. Eventually they completely closed, and I felt the grip of his hand in mine relax.
Ollie saw in my eyes what Buffy did. He felt as she did that if I was there, he could let go, and that the world was safe for him.
Parenthood is a lot of things, and it’s moments like these that parenthood is its most beautiful and meaningful. To give another the feeling of love and safety in moments before sleep is a gift from the heart, a reflection of a deep human connection. It is an expression of our purpose in this life to be for each other, and bring love into this world.
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