I see the streak of light illuminate the sky. I hear the loud boom that follows. I sit and wait. I know what will follow.
Within seconds, I hear it. The scared little cry that streams through the monitor. You’re getting bigger every day, but these moments remind me of the tiny pieces of baby left in you.
I tell you not to worry, it’s the music of the sky. I tell you if we could, we’d dance. Instead, it’s late, so we rock and cuddle. You feel safe in my arms. It’s just as it should be.
You’re calm. You’re comforted. I sit and smile, watching intently as your eyes get heavy from the slow and delicate way I trace each line on your face. Not just to calm you, but also so I’ll remember the shape of your lips and the roundness of your sweet baby cheeks.
The storm continues. I listen while you sleep. It’s like our own little lullaby. One that grants us extra cuddles and kisses in the middle of the night.
I’m exhausted and in need of sleep, but sitting here, in this rocking chair with you, makes me smile. I feel whole and at peace. I feel blessed by motherhood.
In the morning, you’ll wake, with probably no memory of this stormy cuddle time. But sweet boy, I’ll remember it. I’ll remember it well.
I’ll need extra coffee to keep me going, and when the exhaustion sets in, I’ll think back to this very moment, and the way I feel holding your perfect little body.
Goodnight, my boy. Tonight I’m thankful for the music of the sky, the extra cuddles, and the chance to love you beautifully.
