Rocking My Baby

As I was nursing him in my rocking chair this afternoon, my baby fell asleep in my arms--sound asleep. He slept and slept and slept, and I held him and held him and held him. I couldn't bear to let go of him; in fact, I couldn't make myself do it until another child awoke from his nap and loudly proclaimed his desire to be lifted from his crib, forcing me to empty my arms of one child so I could lift another.

Not much in life is sweeter than holding your peacefully sleeping child. Not much at all. Oh, maybe walking hand in hand with your husband, just the two of you, as you talk and connect on a heart level...or feeling a refreshing intimate connection with God during an intense time of worship...those would qualify for the Life's Sweetest Moments award. But not much else compares with the joy of holding your child in your arms, feeling the weight of his sleeping body, watching his chest rise and fall and his pulse beat in his neck, listening to his soft breaths and occasional sighs, feeling his body jerk from his startle reflex and then relax as he settles into deep sleep again, breathing in his scent that beats any manufactured and bottled-up scent any day, knowing that God chose him to be yours. Oh, the privilege!

With no one else around to help me take a picture this afternoon, I tried to do a self-portrait. This was my best attempt; and poor as it is, it serves its purpose of reminding me of the special afternoon I shared with Shav and the deep gratitude I feel for the blessing of being his mother.

Day 14 - I remember a rocking chair that we had when I was a child. It had no arms, consequently being perfect for when I grew almost too big to fit in my mother's lap but still wanted to be there. Without sides, I didn't have to worry about bumping into something or having to squeeze into a too-small space; and so, as a result, I didn't have to give up rocking on my mother's lap for a long time.

I'm thankful for rocking chairs, a mother who took time to hold me in them, the privilege of being my mother's daughter and my sons' mother, and this happy memory.