Tuesday, February 1, 2011
Tonight, I held him tight. His fresh, clean hair, still wet from bathtime, pressed into my cheek. His breathing was the slow, rhythmic breath of a baby just fallen asleep. I held him in my lap, his legs so long, spilling off the side of the pillow. I remember when he was half this size, so tiny and compact. As he drifted off to sleep, I held him and a tear escaped. Where has my little baby gone? Who is this big (wonderful, sweet, loving, active, inquisitive, smiley) kid who has taken his place?
Tonight, I held him and I cried. Tears of sadness for my baby, who didn't keep. Tears of joy, for seeing the boy he will become. Tears of love, for being allowed to experience something so great.
Tonight, I held him and I cried.