I still rock Crosby to sleep for naps. On the weekends or on snow days. It is one of my favorite things to do. Sometimes he resists at firsts, cries out or wriggles around, fighting. But eventually succumbs. I love those moments.
I stroke his face.
Softly...with one finger, just above his brow. The way my momma did for me.
He opens his eyes: I smile, he smiles. His eyelids are heavy and shut again. But he can't resist. They open again, checking to make sure I'm still there and the little sleepy smile breaks again. I stare at him, watching as sleep overwhelms his little body.
He holds me tight and the heavy breaths get deeper. He nuzzles my neck and I kiss his head, breathing in his toddler scent.
I love it, yet it breaks my heart.
I savour it, but I know I'll not remember. Not exactly.
Because memories dim and fade.
Motherhood is a wild ride of extremes. It engulfs me in this love that at times makes me feel more deeply than I could ever imagine. At other times, more despairing than I could ever imagine.
The knowing that he is my only and my last forces me to try to cling a little longer... I want to hold on to this. I'll never have it again. I want to stop the moments that fleet away and to linger here for longer.
I love you, Crosby.
Wish I had some pictures of me rocking you. I hardly have any of you even sleeping. This will have to do.
Love,
Momma
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