From the day Braeden was born, we’ve shared a nightly routine. Not that my husband doesn’t want to give him a bath, read, or give him the last kiss before he sinks into the bed. He does and sometimes…only sometimes I share our nighly routine with him. One may think; this is a routine, doesn’t change, repetitive, boring, exhausting. There are moments like this. There are more cherished moments.
Cherished moments like today.
Down from the highchair, run around, “gimme that freckle”, undress, “ahhhh! naked baby!”, in the bath, splash splash, both dry off, moisturizer, tickle here, tickle there, brush teeth, “not the wall, your teeth”, dressed, brush your hair, sit, read, listen…”a rat and a big gray spider were in the crate with Wilbur”…fall asleep.
I stopped reading, closed the book and rocked. Back and forth. Braeden’s head rest on my heart. I held him. Watching him sleep. Listening to him snore, trying to hold back a chuckle. Back and forth. I remembered a time when he slept in my arms. A time that felt so.so.long ago. I thought to myself, “I might feel ok in the morning after sleeping in this rocker all night.” “No no, that would be bad.” I was certain he would wake as I started to rise. Not a flutter. Asleep. I lay him in bed. Watching him. Tears building up, burning my eyes.
You see today’s routine was different. Braeden is always awake when I finish reading. We give each other a goodnight kiss, another one, another one, another one…I’ll spare you the number of times. I lay him down “another one” he tells me. A kiss. A goodnight. A I love you. I close the door behind me. I watch the monitor. He wiggles and sometimes giggles. Then silence.
You see today’s routine brought me back to when my baby was a baby.
You see today’s routine is why it’s our routine.