Thursday, August 9, 2012

Sleeping B

There is something about a sleeping baby.  I could stare at him for days when he sleeps.  So pure, so angelic, so peaceful.  I love the way his body melts into me as he relaxes and falls asleep.  And then as I leave his room it is bittersweet because now we are separated for many hours.  For so much of his life we have been one.  Together more than apart, but as he grows he needs me less and we spend more time as two.  It's wonderful how confident and able he is.  There were days when I couldn't wait for him to need me less, but now as it all unfolds, this reality of his growth makes me hold tight to the last thread of my baby.  He will always be my baby, but it's increasingly a falsity to call him that.  He is a toddler, a little boy all his own.  I understand now why my dad calls me "Baby" sometimes.  He will always have these images I am holding on to of me as a baby.

It’s very ironic to me that as a parent, specifically a mom, I am very ready for him to go to bed at night as we are both exhausted and many times he is beginning to unravel after a full day of activity.  I know he needs to get to sleep quickly before I miss my window.  It takes effort as we go through our routine and sometimes I am counting the minutes as we fall behind my hoped-for-point-of-slumber.  Once he is asleep I often just stare at his beauty, trying to ingrain every detail of his sleeping baby face and body in my mind.  His tiny hands, wispy hair and the way he holds his “baby”.  I feel triumphant that he is sleeping, so ready to have some “me” time, and then an hour passes and I miss him.  I want to go back and hold him again or just look at him.  If he was awake when I left, I feel guilty that I didn't stay in the room longer.  I am glad he is asleep, but I feel like I am missing out on time with him.  Time I can never get back as he seems to grow and change daily.  Every night before I go to bed I tip-toe into his room and check on him.  I observe the temperature in his room, cover him with a light blanket or adjust the volume on his wave sounds, and I stare.  Through the darkness I strain to see his face.  I shine my phone on him quickly to get a glimpse.  There are times I am amazed at where he has ended up in his crib.  Often times I snap a blurry photo on my phone before I leave risking waking him with the flash.  I just want to save these peaceful moments.  The last bit of babyhood.  He is all boy these days and I barely see the baby he once was.  I love everything he is becoming, but I wish I could freeze him as he is right now.  So much fun, so much wonder, so much love.  I have quite a little collection of sleeping Becker photos these days.  It never gets old.  I bring my photo back to show Mark and we got to bed. There is just something about a sleeping baby toddler. 

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