Sometimes

 Sometimes the village is just you and your partner.

No grandparents on standby.
No babysitter to call.
No one swooping in to give you a break.

Just two people in the thick of it.
Trading looks across the room.
Tag-teaming bedtime.
Holding it together when everyone else is asleep.

And somehow, in the middle of the exhaustion,
you become each other’s safe place.
The deep breath.
The steady hand.
The reminder that you’re not doing this alone, even when it feels like it.

Sometimes the village is small.
Sometimes it’s quiet.
Sometimes it’s just us.
And that has to be enough.