He walked back into his room, his head a mess of post-bath curls, his eyes as blue as the deep blue ocean. He shook his head like a bobblehead as he relayed his message for me:
“Mama. DaDa… BaBa… ni ni…”
I rocked back and forth in his rocker, “And Jo Jo, right?”
“Yethhh…” he responded, so intent on trying to get one of his newest words out.
We read. I let him choose three books instead of two. Because Tuesday. And because one of them was the usual “If you give a pig a party” which I didn’t even need the book in order to recite.
We rocked and read. And then I turned the switch on his lamp. One click. Two clicks.
The room was darker. But not pitch black. The summer nights make for slivers of the unset sun getting to poke through. Telling him that it doesn’t really feel like time for sleep.
I started singing, You are my sunshine… one of my three sunshines…
And then he did his usual. He cranked his body up from where his head lay, with his head resting on the arm of the chair, perpendicular to my upright position. And he nuzzled into me.
But tonight. Tonight he did the thing that I thought was over. That I thought had passed. Because since my surgery, every night, he attempts to get comfy with his head on my shoulder or in the crook of my neck and then takes his former position on the arm of the chair. My chest, too hard, it seemed, for him to settle into.
And then. Tonight. He didn’t take his former position. He snuggled deeply into me. He tucked one arm under himself. One around the left shoulder as his mouth breathed into my neck. And as one song ended. I began another. And another.
And another.
And another.
And, well, another.
Because I’d be damned if I was gonna let go first. I relished the closeness to him. The comfort that I could tell I was providing to his tired little body. And the wholeness that he was providing me.
It was the perfect way to end the day. With this little person. Rocking. Singing. Humming. And knowing that even if tomorrow is different, and tonight was the last hurrah, I didn’t let go first.
He leaned back after just the right amount of time, it seemed, and pointed to his crib. As I put him down, I whispered, “Mama loves you. Thank you.” and he rolled over, looked up at me with those deep blue ocean eyes and signed, “thank you.”
I don’t know who got the better end of things tonight but I know that from where I sat, I had it pretty good. And that it’s moments like that where I think, this motherhood thing may very well be the best hidden treasure the world has to offer.
You first. I thought over and over in my mind. Because I’m not letting this moment out of my sight. And as our hearts were beating, smooshed together in snuggles, I do believe he heard me and thought, game on.
