He is sleeping, but now with me, with us. His leggy frame is sprawled out, limbs unwilling to be framed in with pillows, despite my best attempts. He sleeps unstill, but contentedly and I ponder.
I wonder have we have been this long and never before shared our bed. Truly never. We have had the occasional interloper, but always required an entry ticket such as sickness or proof of nightmare. The only little one that has ever nestled in our bed was Clarke, now 12. Our chocolate lab puppy slept between our pillows where our youngest son sleeps now. He sleeps and I ponder.
Cribs are for sleeping. Our bed is my refuge and I find no place more relaxing and comforting than the bed covered in feather pillows in crisp white pillowcases and a mixed surplus of thin cotton blankets and thick and airy comforters. I adore crawling into bed to read or write or lie and think; a sleeping baby has never meshed into this creative sphere for me, but tonight I write as I gaze at the small figure in cotton footy pajamas. He sleeps and I ponder.
For the last month or so, my young son has awoken and cried and I have fetched him most evenings, snuggled him close and then unsuccessfully try to deposit him back into the old wooden crib, shoved in a bathroom, at our home for the summer. He has been slowly winning the battles and it seems I may have lost the war as tonight he began his slumber wedged between my husband and I, a boy and his blankie. He sleeps and I ponder.
What if he never gets in his crib again? What if he never naps again? What will we do when he grows out of his crib? What if I never have any time where he is not within arms reach?
Ahhh, that is the fear. A fear and an act of love that I embrace simultaneously. My fierce love inspires me to gather him into my arms throughout the day; never have I bestowed this much physical affection on my other three children combined. Perhaps if love him enough, he will speak. Perhaps not, but how can I leave him to cry alone? The little boy that has yet to find his voice or share his thoughts or needs for nearly three years. I can't leave him to the wolves, alone and weeping in his crib.
Tonight and for as long as he likes or needs, we will tuck him into our place of tranquility. He will sleep and I will ponder.