I Don't Do it Often...

But sometimes, I just have to rock my baby girl until she is fast asleep and dreaming. I rocked her to sleep A LOT when she was dealing with painful reflux as an infant and it was the only way she'd sleep. After she was put on the right medication and was no longer in pain, I knew she needed to learn how to fall asleep on her own. And she did, the very first time. I was thankful on one hand, sad on the other. I know she doesn't need to depend on anything like rocking or a bottle or her momma (sigh) to put her to sleep. However, I missed rocking her to sleep oh so much. I'd still rock her every night, of course, but I'd put her down before she closed her eyes. So, now I allow myself one night a week (ok,ok sometimes two) to rock my baby completely to sleep. It's without a doubt the highlight of my week.

       (Click on any photo to enlarge)

We read, I rock, I sing. And continue to rock and sing after she falls asleep. Here is my inner dialogue just about every time:

                         I see the moon, and the moon sees me, and the moon sees somebody I'd like to see...

Oh my, Lord. She is even more beautiful today than she was yesterday. Isn't she?
I love her more today, too. How is that even possible?
She takes my breath away. Seriously, I just forgot to breathe.
Thank you, Lord, for our healthy, smart, beautiful baby girl.
I think I'll sing just one more song.
My heart is so full.
Look how big she's gotten, Lord.
Soon, she'll be so big that she won't want me to rock her anymore.
Oh, no. Don't cry. Don't.
Too late.
Please, Lord, don't let one of my tears fall on her and wake her.
How did something this perfect come from my body?
I love her so much. I would die for her, willingly.
Wow. So, this is how much my mother loves me?
I am so undeserving of such an indescribably powerful love.
And Lord, you love all of us even more than this.
I think my heart might explode.
Deep breath.
I love the way she stirs, occasionally in my arms but doesn't wake.
She knows her momma's got her. She knows she is safe.
Leighton, you are just so perfect. So beautiful. And you are all ours.
You look so much like your daddy. And oh, how you love him. And he loves you.
I have got to stop crying.
Ok, one last song.

                        God bless the moon, and God bless me, and God bless the somebody I'd like to see. 

Then, after I sing that last song, I place her gently in her crib. On her belly with her head against the bumper, just the way she likes it. She stirs, realizing she has been put down. She goes right back to dreaming, such a  good baby. I wipe away the hot tears staining my cheeks. I physically get down on my knees on the adorable pink rug just in front of her crib. And I pray. For her health. For her relationship with Christ. For her future husband, and his relationship with Christ. For so many more things. I say, "amen." I kiss her softly on the top of her head. I marvel at how big she is beginning to look in her crib. And I cry again.

Oh, 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 Hulburt Hamilton