I sit here at 1:05 in the afternoon, tired and brewing a cup of coffee I should probably be skipping. But I’m going to drink it all the same.
You, my sweet baby, woke up so incredibly sad last night. Or do we call it this morning? It was 2:51AM and you came screaming on the monitor—calling my name and crying big, real crocodile tears.
I was surprised, as you rarely ever wake in the night. You’ve been a solid sleeper for so long now.
Without a moment to lose, I rushed out of bed and straight to you. A Mama (eventually) knows a true “need you” cry and I could tell this one wouldn’t resolve without a good strong hug. Maybe for both of us.
In three quick motions, I slipped into your room, tapped on your little sound machine light, and was holding you before you could even sniffle another tear.
I took you to your chair to hold and rock you. Oh, how you melted into me. It’s been longer than I realized it had been since you took your precious head and nuzzled it into the bare skin of my chest. It reminded me of when you were an infant and this was the only place you would sleep; right above the heart that seems to beat just for you.
It took a while to calm your lingering sniffles but soon your breathing fell into a calm, predictable rhythm and I knew you were eased. I also knew I should get up, lay you down in your bed, and allow you to handle falling asleep. But I didn’t. I sat there holding you, knowing full well you were probably really holding me, and rocked you until you were sound asleep in my arms.
See, I know how numbered these days are. I know there will be a day that you won’t need me in this way. So last night, I held you longer than you really needed and I savored your calm breathing on my chest.
I slipped out of your room and found myself smiling. Exhausted and already mentally drafting my Starbucks order. But smiling.
You’ve gotten so big and bold and capable. It makes my heart soar to see you be so sure of yourself.But, in this moment, I was reminded how small you really still are and felt refreshed by how much you still need this Mama of yours. I love that my snuggles and hugs can still fix things when you’re feeling off.
I’m still not sure, by the light of day, why you awoke so upset. I took your temperature-all good there. I asked you about being sad when we got up for the day at 9:00-you weren’t so sure yourself. And that’s okay. I’m just thankful for the opportunity to still be needed.
And I’ll keep showing up for whatever that looks like for all the years to come.