NOT Your Last Bottle

Dear Emmett, 

You are currently 17 months old and you have just fallen asleep next to me. Over the past 6 months we have shared a bed due to your sudden extreme fright of cribs when you turned 1, and I don't know if we can ever go back to crib sleeping again. Over the past few months your nighttime routine has changed drastically. At the beginning it took us HOURS of fighting with you, holding you and singing, rocking and walking, rocking and feeding, or any combination of those things. I don't mean anything bad by it, but you are NOT an easy baby. Sorry dear. These days bedtime is usually (usually) a little easier, especially when you have had a long day and a full stomach. After your bath I put you in pjs and you'll crawl over to your side of the bed, grab your blanket, and snuggle your face into it. Then I'll come drape it over you, you'll cocoon yourself face down, and fall asleep. Only about 30% of our nights go like this, but that's better than nothing! Tonight was a little extra because in between pjs and cocooning I gave you half a bottle of milk and you actually sat on my lap and drank it! Ever since we introduced the sippy cup you have mostly weaned yourself off the bottle, and you're not big on milk, so it's rare for you to agree to drink any amount of milk at nighttime. Tonight was such a surprise that I had to write about it, and it sort of made me melancholic because I have no idea how many of these bottle feedings are left between us! What if tonight was the last one?!! I am SO not ready to give up my little baby, yet every day you prove how much you are a little boy now, and no longer a baby. 

There are moments I wish could stretch forever, tonight was definitely one of them. 

I love you endlessly my boy. 

-Mom 

Lullaby Baby, Lullaby Dear

After a 3-hour battle to get you to sleep (Emmett vs Mom & Grandparents) you have finally dosed off   In my arms as I rocked you and sang your lullaby (for the fourth time this hour). It's almost midnight and we both have a long day tomorrow, so I should probably set you down and go to bed. All I can think about, however, is how my arms don't remember your weight and feel when you were 1 month old, or 3 months old, or 6 months old. You and I hardly fit in this rocking chair anymore, and over time my arms have molded to whatever size you needed them to, but oh how I wish more than anything to hold you as a little baby again. We have spent hundreds of hours in this rocking chair, yet somehow it is not enough. It's never enough. You grow every day, and I don't want to set you down because I know that one day I will be wishing to remember what you felt like at 14 months. I'm just not ready for the day when I'll have to stop rocking you altogether, baby boy. We are both exhausted, yet I wish this night would last forever.
With all my heart,
Momma.