Eden cries.
Through the rattle of the window a/c in her room, and the one in ours, and the two shut doors and the fog of heavy sleep, I hear her.
Covers back — smooth so I can cover us in one motion when I have her with me. Feet on the floor. Pile of laundry, avoid, step on Cute Husband’s shoes — squint in at the clock, notice the time and instantly forget it — yank on a door, push on a door, trip on a doll, stumble through a discarded blanket … soft fuzzy head. She’s standing up.
“Did you have a bad dream? — Momma fix,” I say against her cheek, one palm against her soft curls, the other rubbing her back. Pad through the wadded blanket, the doll, the doors, the corner, the flip flops, the laundry. A leg over, then the other, bring the blanket smooth, tuck her in for a nurse.
“Momma fix,” I yawn. I squint hard at the blue digits that would tell me the time if I were not so near-sighted. Must be around three, I guess.
Eden drapes a bare arm over my shoulder and I stroke it.
Little arm in the moonlight. Little arm on the sonogram screen so long ago. Flesh, pale and contoured like drifted snow.
Every inch, every chub, every muscle and sinew, I built. I built it in this room, on this bed. I built it in the kitchen where I made her meals, and at the dining room table where I fed her and worked on my laptop to help earn the money that would help keep us stocked in whole grains and fresh veggies.
Eden finishes with a happy sigh. She sucks her thumb, burrows, and then that snow-drift arm squeezes me, once, like an earnest handshake.
When did she first know she loved me?
Was it when we met, when she was gray-eyed and confused, and I was thrilled and incapacitated on the operating table?
Did she love me after nursing took hold or after some number of times I reliably showed up when she was hungry and wet in the darkness?
Eden does not yet know that I am expert at Skeeball, that I will allow her a far more creative wardrobe than most of her peers will be permitted to wear in public, that I will throw her birthday parties of unparalleled enthusiasm.
The Tilty-Floored Farmhouse she has lived in her whole life is relatively new to me. She has never been to Florida or Mexico, like I have, and she has never sat in circle time or waited nervously at recess to see if anyone would play with her.
This is Eden’s whole world, a full belly, her mother’s warm body, her father’s breathing with his strong back against her. This little gesture of hers, this squeeze of my shoulder, this thank you –
it is perhaps the purest expression I have ever known.
wow. so beautiful.
and much needed during the second feeding of the night for my 6mo.
Beautiful
I hope one day I can feel these things that you express so eloquently.
So beautiful. Makes me want to add a little Three to our family….
And it makes me look forward to adding our own 3rd girl in two months! You have such a way with words, Liz.
I love the creative wardrobe thing. I just bought my preschooler’s summer clothes for next year. All skirts. I’ve given up on getting her to wear pants/shorts voluntarily. At least if I buy them all at the same store they all *sort* of match…
Liz, Liz, Liz. You got me again, mama. I got choked up and audibly did that laughing-while-crying thing. So amazing. Thank you for sharing. Luv luv triple luv you and your writing. hugs.
(P.S. My 5 yr old daughter just walked up, and saw Ren’s photo, and I told her all about Ren, and her sisters, and her daddy, and there is her mommy who writes about being a mommy. Thought you’d like to hear that. smiley face)
sigh…so i’m usually a non-commenter, but i just read that while nursing my almost 7 month old…and now i’m all teary. thank you.
beautiful, i now want to be a mom
I have night weaned, but I remember those moments. We still have them first thing in the morning and last thing at night, but I finally slept for more than three hours for the first time in over 14 months and thought I would die of elation. But the memory is still fresh to remember the squeeze and the sigh and the gratitude.
Aww gawd, why’d you hafta go and make me cry??
So Beautiful….I miss those moments.
I had a rough day of motherhood today. Whining toddler, crying, needy infant, husband at work. This post made me cry. THANK YOU for reminding me that it is all worth it.
As an exhausted mother of a six-week-old, I thank you for reminding me that it’s all worth it.
Achingly beautiful. Sometimes I remember to treasure these delicious moments, nursing my 15-month old when she wakes in the wee hours. It does make me feel powerful and humble in the same moment… she won’t always need me so and it won’t always be so simple to make things better. She’s my fourth and probably my last and I wish I could hold these moments forever. I wish I could honestly remember these moments with my older children. I’m so afraid of forgetting and heartbroken that once they’re over I’ll never have that feeling again. Somehow I doubt that nuzzling my grandchildren’s heads will be the same. There will be other moments but not these…
Thank you for the beautiful post. For the reminder to savor this time.
This post just tugs on my heart strings.
I feel crazy sometimes wishing my eleven month old wasn’t sleeping through the night so well and missing those middle of the night feedings, but this is why! Luckily I still get those pats and squeezes in abundance in the daylight, and they put me over the moon
So very sweet. Your words made me miss breastfeeding my babies in the middle of the night. That pudgy little hand patting my breast as she nursed, so content and one with me. It was the most moments that I could take the time to reflect on what was most important in my life. I miss it all.
Thank you for reminding me to remember.
Just purely beautiful.
Thank you so much for reminding me what makes being a mother so special through the beauty of the small moments in our mother-days. Though nursing ended much sooner than I’d hoped for my preemie, I felt that same wonderful connection with him (now 9 months old, strong, and perfect) just a few hours ago as he surrendered to sleep with a sigh as he rested on my shoulder and we rocked and swayed after a long, fussy, ear-infected day. Thank you for helping me remember today as a good day.
Breathtakingly beautiful. Now I kinda feel like a jerk a little bit, for telling my 9-month-old I hated him last night at 3 a.m., when he was fighting getting a new diaper on, and I was trying for the third time to get said diaper on, my eyes gritty with sleep deprivation, and severe nearsightedness… (of couse, I really don’t, though… And I will miss the snuggling and nursing and cuddling when it’s gone…)
*sigh* I hear ya, ‘nother Liz. Thank goodness everyday is not like that!
Beautiful. Just beautiful.
@’nother Liz… oh man, we’ve all been there. take heart!
I have three and my baby is 11 months, still nursing at least 2x a night, and I’m about to fall over from exhaustion. But there’s nothing like the feeling of him settling in and sighing contentedly as i tuck him in to nurse.
Lovely, Liz… as always
Lovely!
Another beautiful posting Liz. It wasn’t until my 4th and last child was born that I realized all the small things you have to really soak up and be thankful for. Even in those early morning hours, those teething, ear infections, mommy’s so tired she could fall over moments. I’m saddened by the fact that I didn’t realize all this sooner, becaue now with my older children I feel like I missed out on those, but now with my last child I’ve learned to be greatful for those small little toothless grins, those small little fingers wrapped around mine and those moments right before he falls asleep where he is staring up at me and blinking in that very slow, trying to fight sleep blink. Thank you for all these beautiful posts Liz, they are amazing to read and at times such a relief to know that other moms in this world have children that like to dress in boas, stipes and pokadots of all different colors.
So… you say you’re an expert at Skeeball…Hmm, I wish I lived close enough to challenege you!
A beautiful post.
Thanks for a really lovely post that puts my feelings into words much better than I could.
We just got home from a week of camping with our girls and the baby did NOT want to go to sleep while we were away. Some nights it took 2 hours to get her settled… And yet, when she finally did snuggle in and drift off to sleep, that chubby little arm hooked around my neck, with a little pat on my shoulder from her other hand, made it all worth it. Man, it is good to be loved by these little people!