To my sweet boy,
From the moment I saw your tiny face, it was truly love at first sight. You were (and still are) delicious, and I soaked up every ounce of you. Though our first several months together were a delirious blur full of sleep-deprivation and far too many hormones, they were beautiful.
Every night, without fail, you have been rocked by either your dad or me. You used to fall asleep pressed tightly against my chest, and I’d sit for far longer than necessary cradling you, memorizing your long lashes and full lips. I’d smell your fuzzy head, relishing the newborn scent that is far too fleeting.
There were times where I felt like rocking you was the one time in my day where I could catch my breath and just be. It was still, calm, quiet.
Our middle of the night rocks happened more frequently than I would have preferred if I’m being honest. It felt like you and I were the only two people in the world who were awake while the rest of the universe was enjoying their slumber. Many nights I would drift off to sleep right there with you, overcome by fatigue.
More recently, you’ve stopped falling asleep during our nightly rocks. You are so very happy and full of smiles. All it takes is one look and you dissolve into a fit of the most contagious giggles. I miss your sweet sleepy breaths, but I absolutely LOVE these laughs.
But now, darling boy of mine, I know the final rock is upon us. For the past few weeks, you’ve been inching yourself off of my lap, wandering over to your crib, and simply putting your arms up, indicating it’s time to get in.
I don’t know when the last rock will officially be. Maybe it will be a month from now, or a week, maybe it will even be tonight. Whenever that night comes, I know I won’t be ready. I know I won’t be prepared. I know I will want infinity more nights with you in the rocking chair.
I may not be ready for our final rock, but you are. One of the hardest parts of motherhood is knowing when it’s time to let go, and I know that the time is near. Knowing you are one step closer to becoming more of a little boy and less of a baby is both heart-breaking and heart soaring. The past 17 months have been full of more love and joy than I thought possible, and that’s because of you. We may be nearing the end of one precious season, but I know the seasons to come will be equally wonderful in their own ways.
Even though our nightly ritual may soon end, the chair and my lap will always be open for you, buddy, if you decide you’d like a rock.
Love,
Mama
