This morning as I rocked you in my arms, I anxiously tried to recall what this exact moment felt like with your brother and sister. I’ve heard before that instead of snapping a picture, live the moment. And while I think that is true, pictures and words are what I desire. They allow me to relive the very moment. To recall the fine details that I crave.
I wanted to write all that I remembered this morning, especially since my days of rocking you are likely becoming numbered.
Your body it melts into mine. Your blanket on one side of your face and your bottle in the other. Your legs straddled against my body so our chests are against one another. The rocking chair we sit in has been passed down from one baby to the next. It is nothing fancy. It has evident wear and stains on its’ cushions, but we fit in it so nicely. It’s where love is. It’s where we connect. It’s peace in the chaos.
I can feel your chest rise and fall. Your eyes so big and beautiful gazing up at mine. Your eyes slowly starting to drift back into the deep sleep you were just shortly in. Your body gets heavier and seems to melt even more into mine. This is when I know you are back sound asleep.
I never put you down right away. Rather, I soak in this moment. I try to get lost in the details, and what I never want to forget. Sometimes, I will drift away as well.
As I put you back into your crib, your thicker blanket goes first. I rest your head upon it. Likely, you still have your bottle in your mouth, so I will prop it up with the other end. You always start on your left side. Your smaller blanket cradles your inner being. You like for it to brush your arm, for you to know it’s there.
Before I leave your room, I look at you. You are peaceful. You are safe. You are loved.
Good night my sweet one.