You didn’t know I held you in the night.
You woke up to go potty and called for me. You were so sleepy that once you finished I picked you up and carried you back to your room. You instantly fell asleep on my shoulder as I walked the short distance back to your bed, but I didn’t tuck you in.
I held you instead.
I rocked you, a sliver of light peeking through the door allowed me to see your sweet face. You were so peaceful there in my arms, lost in your dreams.
And I dreamed too.
My mind was transported to those first days in the hospital when they laid you on my chest for the first time and tears came to my eyes. I remember those first nights at home, holding you, rocking you, loving you.
And I can’t help but wonder how many more nights I can hold you like this. How much longer will you fit here in my lap? Already, your legs spill over the side of the rocker. Your long arms tuck in near your chest; your little hands rest beneath your chin as if you’re offering up a prayer.
And I pray too.
I thank God for you and your sister. I ask Him for the grace I need to parent you well. I ask Him to watch over you all your days. And I cry to Him…sharing my overwhelming gratitude that I get to hold you, and sharing my aching heart as I know I can’t hold you like this forever.
The days are passing quickly, as are the years. And I realize it now more than ever before.
But here, in the night, we dance together in the slow and steady rhythm of this faded, yellow rocker. Just the two of us.
And for just one more moment…
time stands still.
Written by: Ginger Hughes – For more stories of motherhood and faith, I’d love for you to join us here at ©No Mama’s Perfect.