Nothing in the world is as sweet as holding a sleeping baby.
Nothing else plucks at your heart strings like the feeling of a little warm, sweaty body snuggling up to you, a tiny curl-covered head on your shoulder.
I’ve never considered myself a “kid person.” Everyone has told me, “It’s different when it’s your own.” You know what? They’re right.
You just can’t beat the feeling. My thoughts become tangled. Even after almost 15 months of having Liam complicating our lives, I am struck anew by awe. Every baby is a miracle, but this is one I live with every day.
He loves me. Of course, I doubt he knows it yet, but his smile lights up the room when he sees me walk in, and that’s enough proof of it for me.
When I hold him I feel protective. It becomes paramount that his world is secure.
And yet . . . I can see ahead to a more independent time. It warms my heart to think of the man he will become and the role I can play in getting him there. It is an awesome responsibility, but it will be a gradual transition, and is not overwhelming. This make me happy, sad and thoughtful.
My life has undergone a revolution in the past two years. It has not been easy. In fact, at times it has been both physically and mentally painful. I suspect it will continue to be so.
Conversion to motherhood for a personality such as I has resulted in plenty of frustration and tears. I can’t speak for anyone else, but the current lack of solitude and organization in my life has caused me to lose some of my hair, and I suspect, some of my mind.
Adjustment to change has never been a smooth road for me, but these precious moments of holding a sleeping baby certainly help me to keep perspective and make it all worthwhile.
11 hours ago