It has been a sleepless few days in my home; sometimes it feels longer, I at least have adjusted and the days are somewhat hazy but calm, two little boys, one very sick but getting better, one slowly succumbing, both content for the most part to cuddle and doze and watch movies, eating toast and drinking tea. It is the nights that are hard. I knew nights would be harder, not just because that is when Adin woke up with that terrifying whooping and coughing that alerted us to the fact that something serious is happening, but because nights in general are the hardest. I was wondering why, last night, with one baby finally sleeping and one in a fever-induced half-doze alternating demands and questions, both nonsense or unintelligible, hen drifting off again. Maybe it's the lack of energy; everyone else is sleeping, the whole world is sleeping, seemingly, there isn't that flow of energy to draw from, to prop up and soothe to a semblance of health. Soon, I hope, nights in an artificially humid room, lights on until first light, constantly checking and rechecking their breathing, their fevers, soothing back down one or the other, scared and in pain, will be done. Until the next time. For now, this quiet daze of sunlit hours is a welcome respite, for all three of us. Now I go back to my blanket-wrapped babies and settle in again, for as long as I can.