Tonight, I Just Let Myself Be “Mama”

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For most of the time my son has been alive, my husband has done bedtime routine. It started as a way to balance out the responsibilities when my son was a newborn and I was nursing (what felt like) nonstop. Since then it has become a sacred ritual. As much a sacred ritual as nursing became to me.

For quite a few months, following bath and books, he has fallen asleep on my husband while they rock in his nursery. My husband will then transition him in his crib, and he typically sleeps through until morning. I’ve come to treasure this routine because it’s granted me a bit of “me” time.

But tonight was different. After being asleep for nearly two hours, my son cried out. The kind of cry that only a mother could distinguish as a truly sad cry; a cry that indicates he has no plan to put himself back to sleep. Typically, on the rare occasion my son does wake up, my husband would dash into the nursery to calm him and get him back to sleep. But tonight I decided that I would take that “task”.

Freshly entrenched in the transition of going back to work AND weaning from our last nursing session (because my son decided that one of those life-changing events just wasn’t heartbreaking enough) I took this opportunity to offer my support and quell the withdrawal ache I’d been feeling since returning to work. Instead of letting my husband put him back down so I could get a break, I went in to soothe him.

I picked him up, held him tight, let his weight sink into me, and let the heaviness of that moment sink in. I just sat. I didn’t rush; I didn’t start my mental timer, the one that would alert me when he was in a deep enough sleep for me to “escape”.

I let my mind wander, but not to places it typically would. It didn’t drift to tasks and chores, but rather to the evolution of his sweet face, from newborn to boy. The wet tears on his cheek as he waited for me to come to his rescue. The joy. The incredible, indescribable, overwhelming JOY of being a parent and watching your baby grow.

And perhaps most powerful of all, I let my mind wander to the fact that I wouldn’t always be able to comfort him and solve his problems so easily. Problems will get bigger and our time together will somehow get even more fleeting and precious. It’s something I had considered but never truly felt the weight of until that moment.

When I finally put him down in his crib, reluctantly, and crept out of his room, I knew just exactly what I was walking away from. It hit me heavy, but it also brought me peace. In that moment I vowed to be more present, more mindful. I still sometimes fall short, but I’m shooting for that goal every day. And in my son’s eyes, I’m the perfect mom. The one who can solve all of his issues with a cuddle or a smile, and sometimes, that’s more than enough. It’s everything.