Sunday, January 23, 2011


I just put my son to bed. As I rocked him, and stroked his hair, and breathed him in, I pushed back tears. It was one of those moments, again, that I told myself to remember every single last detail of this very moment. I will myself to never forget the way he feels. He breathed in and out, was as still as could be as he became sleepy. I swear he was trying to remember this moment too. As I looked around his room, I began to wonder when exactly he became a big boy. Since when did he like cars, and trucks, and Buzz Lightyear? When did he learn to do puzzles? When did he start wearing a size 3T shirt? It's like he grew and changed without me noticing these little differences day by day. And then, all of a sudden, it was different. He was different. Sure, he still lets me rock him to sleep, as he did tonight. But, he felt heavier as I began to memorize each detail. His hair was longer. His toys were scattered about, unlike the days when he was content just being in his Mama's arms, never exploring all of the trinkets that fill his space. Tonight, I knew he would never seem littler than he did at that moment because surely he will wake up tomorrow changed. Again, he will be different than he was today.
There is still a bit of baby in him, though. He carries is blanket around when he's sleepy. He sucks on his pacifer to sooth himself to sleep. He cries for his Mama. I especially memorize these very things that make him seem so little. I watch as he falls asleep through the crack in his door. I watch as he learns to paint. I delight when he looks for Waldo in his favorite book. But, even as I try to bottle up every last detail and watch his every move, I forget. The details fade. I can barely remember what he felt little as I rocked him to sleep last year.
So, tonight, I rocked and forced these details not to leave. I searched frantically through the dark to see and feel this moment. My baby boy who is on the verge of being a big boy, his mismatched jammies and how they are snug on his belly, the black puppy he sleeps with waiting for him in his crib. I kissed him night-night. I took one last look around. And I asked him to please not change too much tonight as he sleeps.
I will see you in the morning my sweet boy. I love you so much it hurts sometimes. The good kind of hurt. You'll understand when you rock your baby to sleep. I wish there were a better way to say I love you. I wish there were a way to make it mean more than it usually does. These three little words do nothing for me. I pray that you know. I pray that you feel the love I could never explain. Every minute of pride, every moment of heart wrenching love, and each second of devotion your Mama has felt is because of you and your sister. For that, I could never repay you. Thank you for making me a Mama. Thank you for taking it easy on me tonight, and waking up your Mama's baby.


  1. Seriously?! Kleenex please? Thank you for reminding me to "Stop & smell the roses"!!

  2. As I just got done scratching my "baby's" back to sleep, you made me teary too!

  3. Really? now I'm a mess! You said exactly what I feel soo often. Thank you! I will be hanging this on my wall today
    thank you for putting my thoughts into words

  4. Ah, crap. I was not going to cry over babies turning into little kids. And then I read this. So sweet and so unfair at the same time.