motherhood makes me weep

I'm not stingy with my tears, they flow freely and frequently. For good news and bad. For joy and sadness. My own and others.

So it's no surprise that being a mom makes me cry far more than not being one did.

This morning Tommy was so so tired, he could barely keep his eyes open and I knew very well it was time for a nap. But laying him down at 8:30 to nap would mean a relatively horrific afternoon and I just couldn't bring myself to do it.

So we read, and played and moved the laundry around (my kid has a weird obsession with socks....he pulls ALL of the socks out of the hamper and plays with them) and finally at 9 I decided I'd bite the bullet, read one more story and let the poor child sleep.

So we read one more story and I laid (lay?) him down in his crib hoping I could watch him drift into a peaceful slumber. No sooner did his toe touch the mattress than he freaked out clambering up my body and squealing like a banshee.

So I scooped him back up into my arms, we read another story, which lead to a song, and eventually he dropped the book and just snuggled into my chest while I sang.

We cuddled that way, he and I, singing all the primary songs I know for 20 minutes. I considered letting him cry it out in his crib, but I needed him to need me.
Not Josh.
Not to be cuddled.
Not my incredible singing voice.
Just. Me.

So there we rocked, back and forth singing and drinking each other in.

As his breathing steadied I decided I probably wouldn't fall apart if I moved him to the crib and he stayed there, so I tried.

The second our bodies broke contact he freaked again. Flailing his arms and legs, reaching for me.

Just. Me.

So I scooped him up again, and we continued our rocking.

Slowly singing all the lullabies I know.

Finally, I knew I couldn't hold him through his whole nap and I had to put him down, but when I stood to move him across the room again, the tears came. Mine this time. I felt my heart reaching out for him and my emotions flailing all over the place.

I simply couldn't let him go.

So if you drove by my house and peeked in my window, you saw me standing, staring out at the neighborhood, with the sweetest bundle of goodness wrapped in my arms. You saw me rocking and singing all the sweet songs I know. My voice cracking, my sniffles keeping time, and my baby knowing that the lullabye of a mother is sweet no matter what.

Sometimes I cry because I am simply not enough, but today I cried because I felt the reverence of the gift of motherhood.

Being a mother makes this girl soggy.