Dear Room 636,
I’m sorry you drew the short straw tonight and have the room next door to us.
I’m sorry for the ten minutes last night you feared for your sleep.
We had driven all day and our toddler had been in the car for over 7 hours. We were all overly tired.
The hotel did everything they could. They put us on the top floor furthest corner room in attempt to muffle the sound of a baby.
But babies cry.
You probably wouldn’t believe me when I said how out of character it was for her to scream like that.
She was overly tired and in a new place, with new sounds and smells.
But you don’t care. All you care about is for those 10 minutes your entire night flashed before you, insisting you were never going to sleep again.
Hopefully you were out at dinner, it was early. She has a 7:30 bedtime, so maybe you didn’t hear any of it and this letter is being unnecessarily written.
But if you did hear it. You might have called the front desk and asked to switch rooms, or maybe you went out and bought earplugs.
She just needed a few minutes.
And while you laid on the other side of the wall cursing our room, we laid there listening to the same crying. Our hearts were breaking as we listened to our baby girl scream at the top of her lungs and there was nothing we could do for those ten minutes to console her.
Those ten minutes felt like hours to us. Did they for you too?
When the silence finally hit did you breathe a sigh of relief? We did.
Trust us we wanted it to stop just as much as you did. Probably more.
We all have those days. Those moments. Where we just need ten minutes. She had some extra energy to get out. She had some last words that she couldn’t say, so she just needed to cry it out.
Your sleep deprived neighbors
C + J