When your voice rouses me from deep sleep, a hair shy of 4:30 in the morning, I can tell from the intensity of your anger that you’ve been trying to get my attention for several minutes. I went to bed worried about your cough and your lack of appetite, so your energy in protesting my absence is reassuring.
I stretch you out on the table and whisper soothing words while we do the necessary work, and we retreat to the chair in the corner. For all your outrage over being made to wait, you settle into an unhurried pattern of suck-swallow-breathe, your fingers playing with the satin ribbons on my pajamas, their smoothness the first toy you’ve shown interest in.
You fall asleep quickly, and no amount of persuading can convince you to eat on the second side. I pad softly back to your room and swaddle you, but I can tell from the outset that it’s a hopeless cause. You’re already ramping back up into red-faced outrage at the idea. We return to the nursing chair, but you fall asleep without even latching. You just want to be held.
I settle in bed with you against my chest. The ghostly roar of the interstate is muted by the walls. Your father breathes deep of sleep beside us; your siblings’ sighs and low groans punctuate the velvet darkness. But this five a.m. is for us, for you with me. The weight of your tiny body spreads outward and inward and fuses with me, filling up spaces in my soul I didn’t even know were there. It turns out there’s always more room for love.
I pull the blankets up around us in a U, conscious always of your need to breathe. I pat the warm curve of your back until your body stops resisting, and you sleep at last. I drift sleepily on the wave of Spirit that comes when I am living fully in the moment. My baby boy, how I love you.
For a visit home…overnight
the soul-filling silence of a winter afternoon in the country
and a glorious night of stargazing with my oldest
two brief shooting stars
deep darkness outside the windows
and a gentle sunrise that wraps the world around, uninterrupted by other houses
For the smell of my home church wafting out to greet me upon entering the familiar space
and the chance to worship with four generations of my family
For unnamed reconciliations
For morning snuggles with a preschooler in the crook of each arm
For conversations that illuminate yet again how blessed I am in my life
and the conversations that remind me that I can never stop wrestling with the hard questions
Counting to a thousand with Ann, for the first time in quite a while
I finally learned to appreciate and “be” in these moments with my baby boy this last time. What a beautiful time.
Beautiful, Kate.
A simple thank you seems so weak, but it’s all I can come up with after reading the words you posted…make that the beautiful words you posted. Blessings!
Thank you. That means a lot.
There is a certain smell I associate with churches and I know that it reassures me when it’s present. I haven’t been to my church in San Jose in 9 years but I know that it will feel like a homecoming when I go.
How sweet and precious are your words bringing up memories of mothering so many years ago. I love reading the links in Ann’s Joy Dare, especially ones of young mothers since my own firstborn will be cuddling her first babe soon. And, how very heartwarming that you are daring to live fully right where you are!
I wonder how cuddling grandbabies will be different from cuddling babies. Someday I’ll find out, I’m sure. 🙂
Thanks for expressing everything I felt as I read Kathleen’s post! The best I was able to come up with was a mealy-sounding “thank you,” which in not the most remote way began to describe my feelings! Congratulations on your soon-to-become-a-reality rite of passage into grandmahood! (Is that a word? lol) I became a grandma when my little one (26) had her first baby girl a little over three yrars ago, then I went up the grandma ranks two years ago, when her second baby girl joined us! This March, my older daughter is expecting her firstborn — a boy! — and I’m still in awe of these blessings the Lord has bestowed on me and this role the He has called me and entrusted me to take on. I hope I’ve been — and continue to be — doing a good job (Frankly, the title “GRANDma” in itself can be intimidating, don’t you think?) I feel so blessed, and I’m infinitely feeling more confident around my grandbabies these days than when I first awkwardly held my own little one 34 years ago. Being a grandma is tasting a slice of Heaven!
I have four of my own… and nursed all of them… although challenging at times, I learned to appreciate the gift as more came along.. this is a beautiful intimate post… I love how it is a personal address to your son… that makes it even more lovely.
Blessings to you…
Beautiful post. I loved the middle of the night moments with my babies. Cuddling with grandchildren has a special feeling all its own.