Tonight, I let you drift asleep as I rocked you gently in my arms.

I’m told I shouldn’t do this. That disrupting your routine could end poorly since our nights of good sleep have been hard-fought.

But I didn’t care. I stroked your hair and tried to memorize every detail of the moment, soaking it in as I stared at your features. I know I’ll miss some of this in the not-so-distant future.

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I felt the weight of your littleness.

Funny how it is both a reminder of your need for me but also how fleeting this phase of life is.

You’re bigger now, more independent, yet you still rest comfortably in my arms. You no longer need my hand to steady yourself, but you reach for it anyway.

I don’t yearn for you to stay little forever. I like what we have now. I’ll like what we have later, too. But I want to intentionally remember the seemingly mundane because there is so much beauty and joy nestled asleep in my arms. It’s what makes our hard times together a bit lighter.

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And so, tonight, this was what we both needed.

Previously published on the author’s Facebook page

Katie Carrick

Katie is a scientist turned child wrangler and writer. Her hands and heart are full with a strong-willed toddler and a velcro-baby. She thinks she’s funny and usually, that’s good enough.