Sunday, July 3, 2011
Rock a Bye-Bye, Baby
“Does Lawson prefer not to rock at bedtime anymore?” my sweet Mom-in-Law asks after a fun night of hanging with the little dude. I felt my body brace with tension, awkwardly awaiting the hub’s response to this question.
“Yah – he’s kind of over it,” he says casually, without a blink of an eye.
He’s kind of over it….
The words echo loosely between my two ears, avoiding my brain where this phrase could go to finally be comprehended. For nearly a month now, I noticed him squirming trying to get comfortable in my arms, then relaxing and saying goodnight when I finally lay him down to rest. It had almost been like he was compromising, knowing how much this time together meant to me, understanding these moments are forever etched in my heart as the most magical, intimate ones I’ll ever experience in this lifetime.
And now, they’re kind of…dare I say it…over?
Oh of course there will be the times when they are sick, relaxed or just need their Mama. There will be phases that his long body will stretch back over mine as cuddling will be his timely request. There will be nights I anticipate he’ll ask to crawl into our beds, be held closely when something is frightening or when parting is just too much. But this…this will likely never be the same.
I’m secretly grateful we hadn’t actually gone to the point of him saying the words “no rocking Mommy” like some of his friends have – selfishly I’m not sure my heart would ever heal. (Future note: for my loved ones: plan for sedatives and adult beverages when L goes off to Kindergarten and gah forbid, college. Hot, hawt mess). But even without him speaking the words, my soul starts to feel a little lost. Couple this with the nearly 75 minutes he played on his own this morning, not needing me at all and you’ll catch me in the therapy line.
I recognize this is normal. That it’s healthy for him. And that this means I have a growing, healthy boy. And that I should be ecstatic.
But – I’m not. Maybe ask me again next week and I’ll have gained some perspective, but for now, can I just have this minute to hum rock-a-bye baby?
Even if it means just placing a hand on the small of my toddler’s back.
I’ll take it.
Rock-a-bye-bye, baby. Welcome to toddlerhood. I love you.