When I first met him and laid eyes on him, he was just a tiny, little, wobbly lump of flesh and soft bones called "Baby" who did nothing much of anything but cry, eat, sleep and poop – and not necessarily in that order – morning, noon and night.
Fast forward 2 months down the road, and sure, there's still a significant amount of crying, eating, sleeping and pooping. But this baby has also grown to be an opinionated little man with a mind of his own, a strong will and a truckload of wants. Who at the same time, is still so very vulnerable, helpless and dependent in every way imaginable.
Because of that, day in and day out, I am given the honour of playing the saviour; his ultimate hero. Sweeping in like a knight in shining armor, each and every time, at every whimper or cry, to fulfill his every need, want and desire. A part of me is throughly fatigued from having to live my life in total servitude to another... but the bigger part of me knows that this – all of this – is temporary.
In contrary to what you may think, no matter how tired I feel right now, I no longer find joy in the knowledge that this will all be over soon. For I know, I know, I know that this is only but a fleeting moment in time when this tiny little being that demands so much of me, that I love with all my heart, still needs me, wants me, adores me and finds comfort in me... like he probably never will again. ='( At least not to this degree – of that I'm sure.
So... I treasure these quiet one-to-one moments that the two of us share in the dead of the night, as his Papa lies sleeping beside us. I smile a sad smile only the darkness can see, hold my sweet, sleeping baby boy closer to my bosom, bury my nose into his head full of hair and take in his oh-so-familiar baby smell I know so well. A queer scent unique to him that I pray I never will forget.
And then, for 45 precious minutes, I relish the feeling and find contentment in holding his limp, relaxed, semi-sleeping body in my arms and bask in the knowledge that from now until forever, I am giving him something no other human being – not his father, not his grandparents, not his friends, not even his future wife – will ever be able to offer him.
Then I pray and thank God that even when my son eventually does grow out of this needy, clingy, need-me-so somewhere-in-between age and becomes my not-so-little baby of 2 feet tall who runs around and drives me crazy with his new-found "independence", I will always have sweet memories like these to hold on to, look back on with great fondness and shed a happy-nostalgic tear at. =')