The baby has been poorly over this last week. Nothing serious, but enough to make the poor mite miserable.
Everything has had to pause: plans have been cancelled, to do lists have been put on hold, laundry has piled up. He has been kept inside, and I have stayed with him. All he has wanted is be held .
As he lies in my lap, I watch his chest rise and fall, his eyelids flutter, his fingers grip mine. I fight the feeling that I ‘should’ be doing any number of chores. These moments are fleeting and precious. Through the sleepless nights and the whirl of family activity, I want to enjoy every second of his babyhood, this third baby of mine. I wish to engrave the memory of his smallness indelibly on my heart.
When he is older, and I am old, I shall look back not on those piles of unwashed laundry but on these moments of stillness amidst the mess and the muddle, with my babe sweetly sleeping on my lap.