The Dance

Hours.

He had been crying for hours. Somewhere over the course of the evening, my sanity left and I could no longer hear myself think. I became a robot as I tried the normal "fixes". Feed, change, bounce, rock, repeat.

Nothing seemed to overcome the screams as his face darkened to a new shade of red. His temper kicked in and he had made it over the edge-to the point of no return. I turned on the glorious vacuum, partially because it soothed him, partially to drown out the noise. Why wouldn't he just go to sleep? I knew he was fighting it. All I could do was dream of my own pillow and its welcoming embrace.

As I rounded the corner to his room for what seemed like the thousandth time, I pressed repeat on his lullabies and held him to my chest.
My movement slowed and so did his crying. I could feel him calming down-giving into the tiredness. Then, I waltzed him around the tiny 5'x5' square between the rocker and the changing table. I listened to the sappy words of his lullabies as he melted into my arms.

The green stars of his little lamb flashed across the room, and for a moment all I could do was thank God for this time with him. Time stood still as I danced with him in my arms. But, I knew morning would come too soon and life would keep moving. Just as quickly as first smile, first laugh, first tantrum, first time to hold up his head came, his life would be full of firsts that came before I was ready.

One day, he will have his first kiss with a girl that will take my place. They will share secrets and bond. He will no longer melt in my arms. He will embrace her. He will choose to spend his life by her side, say "I do", and give her the first dance.

As the soft light fell across my baby's tear drenched cheek, I cried. I imagined him standing over his momma on his wedding day. The day will be a blur, the music will play, and I pray time will stop for just a moment so I don't feel him slipping from my fingers.