Last night I heard Collin crying in the middle of the night. He's been doing that a lot lately. I think it's something about being in a new house.
For now, I don't mind it. Every night I wake up blurry eyed to find my little baby crying for me. I pull him out of his covers and wipe his tears. We sit down in the rocking chair and he buries his face in my neck, his little sobs quieting. He is so warm, and I cover us both in his blanket. I could probably lay him down after a minute or two, but usually I can't seem to pull myself away. I know I'm probably starting a bad habit, but at the same time, I realize I have just a few months left of this baby time.
As he slept on my chest last night, I held his little bum in my hands and felt his slow, steady breathing. I had missed him while away for the weekend. Suddenly I remembered, not too long ago, holding him that way when he was still inside me. Sleeping was hard when I was very pregnant, and I spent a lot of late nights laying in bed, holding his little shape and feeling his movements. I would imagine what he would be like. I imagined holding him in my arms.
Now, actually holding him in my arms, I realize this is about as good as it gets. I know that most of the time I complain that I want to just get out of the house, dress in something other than mom clothes and sleep an entire night through. It's these moments however, that makes to realize, this, being a mommy, is what I was always meant to do.