I'm Holding My Baby

I'm sitting here watching my wee Nicholas as he sleeps.  His diaper was changed, his tummy is full.  He drifted off to sleep the slumber of the satisfied while lying in his mommy's arms.  Every few minutes his little lips make a sucking motion even though he's no longer nursing - must be what his dreams are made of.  His tiny little fist is still clutching my shirt.

And I'm just sitting here, savouring these moments, feeling him breathing, listening to the sounds of Nicholas sleeping.

There are other things that need to be done, but there is nothing more important than this.

I can picture many moments of holding Evan this way.  There were also many moments with the twins, but I didn't have the same luxury of time with them as there was usually another tummy needing to be filled.  Unfortunately once they were all weened, these moments became a thing of memories.  Fortunately I now have my Nicholas to make more memories with :)

I mentioned to a friend of mine that there were a lot of things I wasn't getting to around the house and was closing my eyes pretending there wasn't a mess to tidy or that the floor needed to be washed.  She shared this poem with me.  Oddly enough, another friend has often quoted parts of this poem to me.  Now I read it over to remind myself that it's ok to sit and hold my babies.  I don't know the author but I love the message.

Song for a Fifth Child

Mother, oh Mother, come shake out your cloth
empty the dustpan, poison the moth,
hang out the washing and butter the bread,
sew on a button and make up a bed.
Where is the mother whose house is so shocking?
She's up in the nursery, blissfully rocking.

Oh, I've grown shiftless as Little Boy Blue
(lullaby, rockaby, lullaby loo).
Dishes are waiting and bills are past due
(pat-a-cake, darling, and peek, peekaboo).
The shopping's not done and there's nothing for stew
and out in the yard there's a hullabaloo
but I'm playing Kanga and this is my Roo.
Look! Aren't her eyes the most wonderful hue?
(lullaby, rockaby, lullaby loo).

The cleaning and scrubbing will wait till tomorrow,
for children grow up, as I've learned to my sorrow.
So quiet down, cobwebs. Dust go to sleep.
I'm rocking my baby and babies don't keep.