Rocking

From inside the office we snickered.  I imagined a red-faced boy up-close-and-personal with one of his sisters. "DO NOT YELL IN MY FACE!" we had heard him scream.  Minutes passed and I emerged. 

The sisters three had left behind a brother self-soothing, rocking in his preferred spot on the couch.  He softly hummed a tune known only to him.  Instinctively and without words I sat in the rocker, motioning for him to come to me.  "He just needs some love," I thought.  He kept humming and made his way to my outstretched hands.  One nearly dry tear on his cheek, he crawled up, settling on my shoulder.  Arms stretching out and wrapping around my shoulders.  Soft humming.

I began rocking.
Holding my boy.
Silent loving.
Soft humming.

His humming continued for a few minutes.  I felt him relax.  His breathing changed and his humming subsided.  Seconds passed and humming resumed.  Seconds later he stopped and I assumed his eyes had closed. 

Rocking.
Cheek pressing forehead.

Moments turned to minutes and I knew he had succombed to sleep.  My thoughts focused on this not-so-little boy I call my own.  When was the last time he fell asleep in my arms?  Will this be the last time I experience this motherhood joy with my not-so-little boy?

Smallish hand muscles twitching.
Breathing quiet.
Hot tears spilling.

I remember when I rocked him daily.  Some days he would sleep soundly, just like this.  Those little baby hands would jerk as he moved deeper into sleep.  Air escapes in small squeaky moans, just as they did then. 

Thoughts turn to a yearning held deep in my heart.  Will I not hold another small child of my own?  Rocking, seeing tiny hands twitch?  Loving my baby as the cries subside and sleep takes hold?  Pain.

Rocking.
Mourning.
Streaming tears.
Minutes passing.

He stirs, eyes opening.  I fear this tender time is over.  He shifts and settles back on my shoulder.  I am grateful he rests quietly in my arms.  Arms also sleeping under his five year old weight.  Washer and dryer chime in tandum as soft snoring resonates within me, just above my heart.

I see the motionless clock on the wall.  Jealous.  I want time to stop in this moment.  To continue endlessly in this euphoria with one of my babies in my arms.

Pausing.

Knowing time cannot be stilled, I thank God.  Thank you, Lord, for four beautiful babies.  Thank you for this not-so-little boy needing his mama today and for giving quiet moments.  Thank you for stirring up pain and causing me to reflect on blessing.  Help me to move forward in thankfulness.

My boy stirs.
Rocking slows.
Smiling through brimming tears.

God is good and gracious.

Heart overflowing with thankfulness.