Nighttime Wanderings

At 3:45 a.m. I heard X-man open the door. He rushed into my room and scrambled onto my bed. I said one sentence (as there's this burning grossness in the way deep down back of my throat), "It's still night night." I pulled the covers up to his chin (something he hates, preferring to sleep on top of his covers like some kind of open faced sandwich). He put his head on my chest and in a few seconds was back to sleep.

X-man doesn't like to sleep with us. He never has. From the moment (3 months) his feet extended past my waistline while sleeping on my chest, he's preferred his own bed. 

So, I was selfish and kept him with me for a while. Then, I stood up and carried him back to bed. 

The strange thing I noticed as his eyes opened long enough to register that it was me carrying him, and he was going back to his beloved blankie and baba (pacifier) was that it was the same face and movements as when he was a newborn. His eyes registered on my face, but couldn't fight the sleepiness. It was like a flashback for just a few seconds to remind me that the giant that I held in my arms so gently had spent an enormous amount of time there. I am safety. I am comfort. I am warmth. I am Mama.

And I wonder if it will happen again? Will I see that infant-like look when he's five? How about when he's 25?

I spent a lot of time staring at my baby. I remember all of the moments he can't. And suddenly, the difficult passage of the last two days seems trivial.