Rocking my Baby

Last night, I snuck into Lily's room an hour after putting her to bed to make sure she was warm and covered up. She wasn't. When I slipped the blankie over her, she jumped up reaching for me instantly. At first I was upset at myself for waking her and worried I'd never get her back to sleep and never get downstairs to clean up the kitchen and do laundry and make calls...

 I grabbed her up wrapping her in a blankie and rocked her in the rocking chair humming to her. Divinity. She looked so perfect and beautiful. Rosy chubby cheeks, sleepy loving eyes, twirling the ends of my hair and the tag on the blankie in her hand. Her body relaxed and she hummed with me. I lost all track of time. I sniffed up her delicious baby smell and stamped a memory in my brain of this precious moment for all time. Her chubby little legs in footed pajamas. Her dimpled hands. Her tiny nose and red lips and fluffy baby body. So therapeutic for us both.

Cleaning and scrubbing will wait ’till tomorrow, but children grow up, as I’ve learned to my sorrow. So quiet down cobwebs! Dust go to sleep! I’m rocking my baby. Babies don’t keep. – Ruth Hamilton

Cooper's first time holding Lily just 13 months ago