People talk about dream

 People talk about dream feeding like it’s this gentle little motherhood hack.

For me?
It was survival.

The house dark.
My body shaking with exhaustion.
A baby barely awake against my chest.

No lights.
No talking.
Just muscle memory and instinct.

It wasn’t sweet.
It wasn’t aesthetic.

It was me buying two more hours so I didn’t completely unravel by morning.

It was strategy in the dark.
It was a mother doing whatever it took.

And some nights, that quiet, sleepy latch
was the only thing keeping both of us afloat.