Not fade away
NS May 24th, 2009
I usually get The Noble Baby to sleep by nursing him in my arms and then laying him down in the cot once he’s asleep, or nearly asleep. Usually just a little gentle back-rubbing and the whirring sound of a nearby fan are enough to send him into a peaceful slumber. But this evening he didn’t fall asleep at my breast and when I tried to put him on his side and give him a pat, he just rolled onto his back and stared at me in quiet contemplation. I smiled and reached down to stroke his smooth-as-silk cheeks and rub my palm over the fuzzy blond down sprouting all over his perfectly-shaped head. Those blue eyes (more like mine than my daughter’s are) looking back at me, into me, like love’s arrow to my heart. The tiny pink lips, Cupid’s envy.
I began to softly sing a lullaby, one that I made up when TNC was a baby and that I sing to her still.
Let’s lie down and rest our heads
Let’s lie down, it’s time for bed
Let’s lie down and count some sheep
It’s off to dreamland, off to sleep
He was asleep after about four renditions.
Still, I couldn’t make myself straighten up and creep away. I remained, crouched over the railing, my hand on his chest, feeling the rise and fall of a sleep unencumbered by worries or fears or uncertainties. Despite the dull ache in my lower back, I remained, allowing myself to indulge in a silent reverie with him.
My son. My beautiful, wonderful son. Do you know how fiercely, deeply and completely I adore you? Will you ever?
I am regularly awoken before the promise of dawn has edged out nightfall’s sojourn and still, I manage to smile. I push myself up on one elbow to look at you, cooing and babbling in bed next to me, your feet pushing against the soft and yielding flesh of my abdomen, your former home. I trace the deep reddish stretchmarks that spread across me like a roadmap of creation, the topography of love. You and your sister made this map — made me — by giving me direction and making life’s path clear. I snuggle closer and create another memory, filing it away for a day when you’re older, more independent, further away.
Like the stretchmarks, I hope they never fade.
