A Sentimental Moment for Mama

Last night, Cameron woke up crying. I went into his room to soothe him, and I heard some suspicious sounds that made me think he might have a dirty diaper. He didn't, so I think the poor little guy had some gas, and that's what woke him up.

He had been crying so hard that his breathing was still uneven, but he was really sleepy, so I seized the moment to do something selfish: I held him and rocked him back to sleep. I don't think I've rocked him to sleep for almost six months now and he usually doesn't sit still for very long in my lap anymore, so it felt good to have my little boy in my arms. He nestled up against me and laid his head on my shoulder, and my cup runneth over.

As I sat there, listening to his breathing and feeling him become heavy with sleep, I reflected about Cameron's first year of life and how so much has changed in just one year. I thought about when he was really little and how we would often fall asleep together in the chair in the middle of the night. I remembered how small his little body was then and marveled at how he only needed to feel safe, secure, and full in order to fall asleep. And then I thought about the many years ahead of us, and I wondered how old Cameron will be when he decides he's too big to sit in Mommy's lap and snuggle. I thought about how the day will come when I won't be able to soothe Cameron or make his problems go away just by hugging him, and that made me sad.

Growing up, my parents told me again and again that I would always be their baby. I thought I knew what they meant, but now that I'm a parent myself, I get it, I really get it.

Cameron, you have an open invitation to climb into my lap for a hug, no matter how old you are...