The Last Time

A while back, I read an article written by a mother concerning the end of rocking her babies. She reflected on encouraging independence for her children in soothing themselves and going to bed on their own. Without realizing it, the days of rocking them to sleep were over. It was a bittersweet piece. She wondered how she would have treated the last time she rocked her baby if she had known it would be the last. Would she have been in such a rush? Would she have spent the time lost in her own thoughts, hoping the child would fall asleep, or would she have savored every second of holding her drowsy child in her arms?

My days rocking Sam have been over for a long time. He is very affectionate, giving hugs all day, but he has too much energy to snuggle. He prefers doing his own thing, on his own time. I am so proud of my independent son, but I understood the sadness of that mother's wish to hold her baby one more time.

Yesterday found Sam still recovering from the bug we've had. He was whinier than usual, and was pulling at my legs as I stood in the living room. I picked him up for a hug and was surprised when he didn't immediately try to get back down.

I turned him sideways, supporting his head in the crook of my arm. Still he didn't fight me. I carefully tucked Softie in along his face and started to sway.

He is much bigger than the last time we did that little dance, but I was determined to make it last for as long as I could. I rocked him, gently, and felt him slowly relax. We gazed into each other's eyes. I smoothed his dark hair back from his face and watched his small hand lazily smooth over the edge of his beloved blanket.

His eyes got heavy. Each blink briefly showed three little creases under his eyes. When he was a newborn, those creases told me he was about to fall asleep. Until yesterday, I didn't know they still appeared.

Eventually I had to sit down. He let me continue to hold him, rocking with no particular rhythm, until he sat up and asked to play with his train. The spell had been broken.

I quickly said a prayer of thanks for being blessed, one last time, by the feeling of rocking my baby in my arms.