As Long As I'm Living

I went through the exhausting daily routine today. Just taking the steps to move toward the end of my 18 hours. Most of it I enjoyed; pretending to eat bugs with Grace, watching Ty roll around on the hardwood but, I peppered some long overdue chores in there too. It was an uneventful day, nothing out of the ordinary.

At the end of my night, I went through the regular motions of putting baby Ty to bed. We rock in our chair in the dark with the only light being blue stars scattered across the room from a toy illuminated in his crib. I give him his bottle and he gets heavy in my arms as I stare at the constellations. Tonight, he fell asleep while I held him which is a regular occurrence. He enjoys our quiet, uninterrupted time just the two of us, no squealing big sister as Papa laughs and gives her whisker kisses that tickle her neck, no barking dog, no one but Mama and baby boy. He usually zonks out before his bottle is even finished. I lifted him onto my shoulder and leaned forward to stand up but, sat back again. 'I need to remember this', I thought. I have to memorize this baby. So, I wrapped my arms around him tightly and closed my eyes. I really felt him. His Barney-Rubble-feet resting on my hips. His strong knees pushing into my belly. His breathing, steady and strong. His body pushed my cradling arms out when he inhaled and I pulled them back into us when he exhaled. His heavy head and soft cheek on my shoulder. His moist breath on my neck. His chubby arm sliding down mine as he fell deeper into sleep. His warm head resting on my face. His bunny hair ticking my chin. This is it. This is what I dreamed of when he was in my belly. His weight, his breath, his warmth and as I held him in the twilight of stars, he became me again. He melted into my chest and my heart began singing a somber tune. I'm so thankful to even feel this love, to feel his life, to be loved unconditionally. But, even as I memorize him, how he feels, his babyness will not last just as my memory won't. I can hold him every night like this, take him in - every single piece of him - but, I will forget. There will be parts I remember but he will never be this baby again. I sat there in the dark thinking of a book I read to Grace regularly (a book that explains the heartache of watching your child who grows too quickly) and how, at the end of the story, no matter how many times I read it, I get a lump in my throat. My eyes water. I lean forward and gently lay him in bed. I kiss his forehead, walk out and close the door behind me. Another day over. Another moment, just the two of us, passed.

I move to the next room, I pick up my big girl and sit down to read her bedtime stories. This is how I know I will forget how it is to feel my tiny baby. Because I hold Grace and her legs dangle off my lap. She tells me, "I wub you, Mama." and I lean in to kiss her forehead but she moves and catches my kiss on her lips. She chooses a book (THAT book) and tickles my arm as I read it. She nuzzles into me and her freshly washed hair feels cool on my neck and smells of the sweetest fruits I've ever smelled. She quietly holds her hand up and I see what she's showing me, her fingernail has torn, so I gingerly pull it off and she giggles, "Sank you, Mama!" We turn the pages of the book and I know, this is how it is. She has grown, as she should, and she has changed into a little girl, not my baby girl. It's never ending. Just as I miss those quiet nights with her as a baby, I will miss these intimate moments as a toddler. I adore seeing them grow but, my heart stings every time I put them to bed, to sleep and grow bigger. To grow too big for my arms, then for my lap....
I get to the end of the book and the lump in my throat appears. I hold her tighter and she doesn't wiggle away. She relaxes into me and just like before with Tyler, she IS me. I kiss her head and continue on.

I'll love you forever,
I'll like you for always. 
As long as I'm living,
My baby you'll be.