This post is going to be all about Riggs. I'm making it clear now so that if baby love notes aren't really your thing, you aren't tricked into reading them.
The words I'm about to type are very personal, and I debated whether or not I should even post them here. But this is my little bit of space in the virtual world, and I enjoy having a record of sorts to look back on and remember.
Last night I was very tired, and got in bed early for a little alone time. It wasn't long, however, before I was joined by two guys who wanted to spend time with mama. For a fleeting moment (really just a second or two), I thought about that space I had just had, that sweet silence I had been savoring and soaking up before being interrupted by the two sleepy but happy faces that I love most. The thought was quickly gone, replaced by conversations about our day and shared laughs about Riggs' crazy seven-month-old antics.
And though I felt as though I could barely keep my eyes open, I found that once again, I was the last to be awake. I lay there, wondering why that was. When I thought about it, I realized that I was thoroughly enjoying being in that moment, squeezed in between my two loves, who were sleeping so peacefully on either side of me. All of this feeling was welling up inside me, all jumbled and mixed up and I knew that I would be able to sleep until I calmed the inner workings of my over-stimulated mind. I tried to write down what I was feeling, but found that words were not coming so easily to me. But I kept working at it, scratching out word after word trying to capture that moment and at the same time ease my mind, and after about an hour, I suddenly stopped writing.
Sweet little breaths, faster than my own.
One eye barely open, not seeing.
His strong heart, beating against my own.
Ankles crossed, clammy feet sometimes pushing, sometimes resting on my thighs.
Little mouth, open and searching, frantically searching, arms flying up.
I move slightly, press in towards him, and that little mouth closes greedily, arms slowly lower, fingers relax gently, one by one.
Warm and soft, a living reminder of the love that weaves through the us.
Our bodies seek out each other, despite the wide expanse of space on the bed, and our breaths go in and out, out, out, in, in, out, a symphony of sleeping.
I move, he sighs, he twitches - hand opens and closes, and hovers over a now cool spot where it had been resting, ever so softly, on my neck.
Slowly, slowly, slow, the fingers relax and down, down comes that hand. I relax too under that soft touch.
Lying awake, fighting sleep, just to soak this in a little longer, this one and only night. Feeling who my baby is tonight, mourning who he will not be anymore by tomorrow, knowing how fleeting this time is.
Knowing that, despite my fight, the seconds are passing, soon I will sleep, unconscious and unaware of the warm little body next to me, growing and changing so fast, like magic.
Then I will wake, and another day will start, and end, and weeks will pass, then months, and he won't sleep with me anymore, and he won't sleep in my home anymore, and I won't ever again feel those feet, pressing into my thighs, and that open mouth, wet and searching, and this little hands, grasping and hovering and stroking, ever so softly.
So I struggle to spend just one more moment awake, feeling and savoring and experiencing. I know that despite these efforts, I'll never remember exactly how it felt to be in this moment and I feel sad resignation creeping in.
I read back over what I had written, and then set it down on the table next to the bed, smiling as I wiped away tears that had collected in my eyes and welled over to roll down my cheeks in big waves. Laying back down onto the bed, I held Riggs close, scooting down so that my face was just even with his. I rubbed my nose on his cheek and kissed his little lips, savoring the sweet, milky smell of his breath and the sound of his even breathing. And then I closed my eyes, and finally, I slept.