Rocking

Today I gave my littlest one... and myself... the luxury of rocking him at naptime. He is the 1 out of 3 that we successfully trained to put himself to sleep in his bed. For months and months his habit of self-soothing did not allow for me to rock him. Instead of becoming more peaceful in my arms, he was intrigued that I was with him... and he was ready to play! So... if I needed him to nap - and not play - I was unable to rock him like I had the other babies. As far as I am concerned, there were pluses and minuses to getting my babies to sleep in every way that I have, and overall I am happy with the variety of ways that I have experienced with all of my little ones. Anyway... today was an unusual treat as I sat down in the rocking chair with him at naptime to read him books. Instead, he became still, and I could sense that he needed to be rocked as much as I needed to rock him.

We rocked.
He stared into my eyes, and I stared into his.
No words.
Just unimaginable love.
Finally, I told him to close his eyes and go to sleep.
He did.
I rubbed his hair.
He grew limp.
His eyelashes fluttered in that, "I am not asleep, but I want you to think I am." sort of way.
His brow furrowed with concentration.
I rubbed his forehead, and he became even more calm.
I prayed for him.
For all of them.
It dawned on me that it has been a year almost to the day since I last nursed him.
Tears rolled down my make-upless cheeks.
I wondered, "Is it over?" That stage of my life.
Forever?
My heart is broken at the thought.
He peeked at me.
One eye.
I remembered that for several days after he was born, he would peek like that.
We called him Popeye.
Then and now... it is as if he is making sure that I am still here. Beside him.
I am, sweet one.
Always.

His Popeye face - in the hospital when he was born. 

I was as in awe of him.

Not much on earth compares to snuggling my babes - still.