Usually, we just tell Seth to go get "in his spot" and take his nap and he is good enough to listen without complaining (too much). Other times, however, he wants company and sometimes it just feels good to lay down with him.
Today was one of those days.
I wasn't particularly tired today, but I just wanted to lay down and hold him. He is growing so fast and, as much as I want to see him grow into a man, I want to keep him sweet and little. So, I layed down with him and held him in my arms.
As I put my face next to his skin, and breathed in the smell of a toddler who has played in the sun, I thought back to the first time the smell of my child was extremely significant to me. During my second pregnancy, I wondered how alike or how different my second son would be. Would they look alike, would they act alike? Would they love each other, would they hate each other? Would I be able to love them both... and love them equally? I was so afraid that we would not be able to handle these issues. After all, I was an only child, and my husband rarely speaks to his brother. But, as soon as they put Austin in my arms, I was shocked. He smelled... just... like... Stephen!
I'll never forget that moment. It was the first time that I ever realized there was something that made us, as a family, different. Odd as it sounds, we smell alike. But as we grow as a family, I realize it's not just the smell. Since we have brought in a new family member, someone who is not blood, I realize that there are so many ways we are alike. We have a family culture, habits, preferences, ways of relating to each other and handling new things that come along. My children are each quite different, but they, and we, are linked by things that identify us as "family"; things no one can change or take away from us.
But back to Seth's naptime. I love watching his little fingers. Seth, like many children, loves to feel soft things. He has two silky blankets that he sleeps with... and sometimes drags around. But he likes anything silky, and tags on clothing will do just fine when his blankies are not around.
His hands are beautiful. Pudgy, but long, little fingers that gently caress the blanket. Fingers that work back and forth as little fingertips enjoy the softness between them. Dimples that come and go as knuckles flex and extend. And sometimes, he takes his little hand and rubs it across my arm. Back and forth, my forearm feels as soft and warm to him as his little hand feels to me. I know that one day soon, I will miss this intimacy.
As I watched the gentle blue light coming through his curtains and falling onto the soft skin of his face, I wondered if God sees us this way. Does He look at us and see the vulnerable beauty that I see in the baby face before me? In our weakness and scars, does he see the same small body needing protection and heart needing love that I see in my little one lying down for his nap? If God loves me, all the time, with a love greater than the love I feel for my children at moments like these, then what do I have to fear and what do I have to look forward to? As I try to think of the words to write to express that sentiment, of a love my heart can't even imagine, I'm not sure those words exist. I only taste it in moments like these; before the waking world steals the feeling away. Before life and responsibility come in and fill my mind with distractions, smothering the love in which I wish I could remain.
I desperately want to see my children grow up... and at times I try to rush the process. But I truly hate the thought of it. I really love them as they are now; not perfect or perfectly obedient, but each beautiful and still innocent in his own way. I think that maybe I'll be able to enjoy them at each stage of their lives. Each stage brings its own joys and sorrows. But I'll desperately miss them as babies and toddlers.
I do have hope, however. The future of a parent is to become a grandparent. When I can no longer gently kiss my sons' baby skin and smell their baby smell, I can look forward to the soft tiny body of a grandchild. May all my daughters-in-law love me as a mother; and I, them, as a daughter. May God grant me many grandchildren to kiss, and sing to, and take naps with. Thank you, God, for giving me more children than I ever thought I wanted. What would I have done, or been, without them.
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