My sweet boy was sick. Only 30 minutes into his night rest he awoke crying. I placed him on my chest and we laid in my bed together . After quite some time of restlessness, he finally found sleep again. I carefully laid him back in his crib and stretched my limbs in relief.
Shortly after, the scene ensued again.
Over and over, cries and soothing, restless and exhausted. I looked at the clock at one point, realizing it must be close to morning. It was 1:30AM. . . this was going to be a long night.
We continued the hours in my bed, his body either on top of mine or directly beside it. I was exhausted, my muscles dearly aching from it all.
I took in the scene before me.
I realized moments such as these are the sweetest aches of life.
He on me, in perfect peace, our breath taking on the same rhythm, our chests rising and dropping in unison. His breathe lingering with the sweet smell of milk, and his warm frame hugged around mine in complete trust. I am his entire world. Upon my chest he slept, knowing everything would be okay as long as I was near.
Morning came all too early and with it his precious voice, “Momma. Momma.” he spoke, over and over again. I, too tired to yet respond, smiled from deep within, brushing my lips across his sweet face. He smiled back and continued on, “Momma. Momma.”
Life is hard. It is cruel and unjust, bringing sorrows and pains, disappointments and regrets. Children are not hard, life is.
In nights such as these, when life brings its difficulties of sickness and pains, it is then we must stop and see the beauty reaching for us, the miracle whispering our sweet name: Momma.