Hers.

They sleep together. On one end is the youngest and he takes up the space for two grown-ups. With arms splayed and most of the time horizontal, he is at his cutest. Fast asleep. Sometimes he smiles, sometimes he frowns. Wonder what he dreams of? Next to him is the woman and next to her the man. She is squashed in between the two. She tosses and turns throughout the night. Turning from left to right. At times hugging the small one, muttering prayers in his ears, holding his little feet and tiny fingers reveling in how they feel in her hands. At time she turns to the man. Hugging him close. Smelling his hair. Burrowing her cold feet under his always warm feet. Deriving strength from that strong and solid persona. In some ways that is how her life is. Her time and space divided between the two. The dog comes back from her rounds and jumps on the forbidden bed. Finds a cozy place on the quilt. Rests her head on the first available ankle and sighs a blissful sigh. The woman is partly awake partly asleep. The day that was and the day to be run through her subconscious mind. At some point in the night she drops off conscious of the man’s and the child’s hands on her stomach. One big rough hand. One tiny baby soft hand. Her family. She has fought hard for him and together they have brought the other. She drifts off with the last thoughts of the day being that of them. Her man and her child. Hers. Totally.