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.
"For a long time there were only footsteps and laughter in our dreams, and even from such small things, we knew we couldn't wait to love you forever."
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