A few minutes before midnight, I’m washed up and ready to crawl into bed. You cry, just a little, and I go into your room to see you standing sleepily and looking over the rail of your crib for me.
I scoop you up, bundled in your little sleep sack, with your puppy pacifier that you really don’t need so much anymore. I snuggle with you into the rocking chair to nurse, half asleep. A moment later, I look up at the clock in your room, and it’s midnight.
So begins my first Mother’s Day. It’s late, and I’m gently rocking us back and forth, lulling the two of us into slumber.
Illuminated by a gentle nightlight, I see your perfect little face, relaxed into rest. I stroke your silky, silly baby hair. I feel how my cheekbone fits just right against your temple as I cuddle you close. I kiss your soft baby cheek, eyebrow, forehead.
I whisper softly how grateful I am that you came down from the stars to be my baby. I love you so much, it’s just impossible to ever put words on it. Tomorrow, I will wake up loving you even more. This feeling of being your mother grows greater, stronger, prouder every day, even though the days are often hard and I am always tired.
I scoop you up close to my body, stand rocking you next to your crib, and settle you down into bed. My next wakeup call will come too soon, but I bet it will make my eyes burn with tears again, as I marvel at the wonder of you and this deep wellspring of blessing and transformation.