While you were sleeping

After the noise and mayhem of a busy day, and once I've had a bit of 'me' time in the evenings when the First Boy has gone to bed, I look forward to going to tuck him in on my way to my own bed.

 

Before my eyes adjust to the dark in his room, I can smell the sweet scent of baby sleep, the unique smell of my own child.  As I begin to make out the dim outlines of his body, I can see whether he has turned himself upside down, with his feet on the pillow, or horizontally across  the bed, and make the decision whether or not to move him. 

 

It's while he sleeps that he looks more like the baby version of himself, and I can look again into the face of my angelic six-month old or twelve-month old and remember carrying his soft little body close to mine all day.  It brings back a wave of nostalgia and emotion, as well as an underlying panic that the days are passing far too quickly. 

 

 

 

When I do move him, he rarely wakes up; he simply sighs this adorable little sigh and murmurs a little before snuggling back down. Occasionally he says a few words in his sleep, and I stroke his brow to comfort and settle him.  I plant a few lingering kisses on his forehead and know that I should go before I disturb him. 

 

At these moments, I find being his mother almost paralyses me with love.  I feel so much for him that my heart wants to burst out of my chest, and I am almost pained that I cannot seem to find the words to express this adoration. 

 

It's such a strong feeling that it's overwhelming sometimes but  I know that I will be tucking him up at night long past the time when he'll need my motherly nocturnal visits.