But here's the thing. I've been missing it.
Tonight when I was putting Titus down he pushed the bottle out and I could feel that it was almost empty and I thought to myself, "Alright, this means I've only got a couple minutes left in here then I can finish working on my Etsy order before Garland gets home." I had the choice to put him down awake (like I usually do and like he prefers) or rock him for a minute longer. I started to put the bottle down and get ready to stand up when he reached up and put his hand on my heart. I'm not kidding, my sweet kiddo reached his tiny fist up and put his open palm right on my chest.
When I felt him touch me it was like all the air in the room stood still and I didn't feel like rushing anymore. I didn't feel like rushing because I couldn't help but think of Amy Hill and wonder if she ever rushed through day-to-day stuff with Tucker like I do with Titus. The thing is, this is normal, this is life. We are taught to be efficient, to make the most of every second of the day, and above all, never miss out on a moment of productivity. I'm sure Amy, like most moms to toddlers, had to multi-task to get everything done each day, and probably, like me, had a lot of nights where she was checking bedtime off a long list of to-do's.
But Tucker died last year in his sleep and no one knows why, and all I could think about as I held my baby boy was, "I bet Amy would give anything to go back and not rush through rocking Tucker to sleep."
So I tried to take it all in.
The sound of his breath getting deeper as he drifts into sleep.
His short fingers raised in the dark, trying to find my face so he knows I'm still here.
The way his body curves up against mine and his head rests in the crook of my arm like we are two puzzle pieces that were made to fit together.
His tiny feet rubbing against each other as he always does when he's nodding off to sleep.
The feel of his eyelashes tickling my cheek as I bend down close to kiss his chubby cheek.
The deep sigh that comes from his little chest that signifies his sense of comfort in my arms.
The feel of his soft baby hair brushing against my forehead when I lay my head close to his.
We are promised nothing here on this earth. Titus may live to be 100, he may be taken away tomorrow, or Jesus may come back before either of us die. All we know in this world is that nothing is promised to us beyond this moment. For me, that was holding my little boy for a few minutes longer as he drifted off into sweet dreams. Tonight I encourage you to stop rushing and really revel in whatever is happening in yours.

No comments:
Post a Comment