“Will you stay with me?”
I hear the small voice call to me. My oldest daughter is still not asleep. Unlike her younger sisters, especially my Rachel, Madeline’s vespertine mood is not quiet or calm. She’s moving until the very second she finally slips into nighttime hibernation mode.
In recent months, I’ve decided I can no longer stay beside her side every night until she falls asleep (not if we want any clean laundry and to eat the next day). On a typical evening, I tuck her in after stories and prayers, give her a quick back rub, and then slip out of the room after planting a kiss on her forehead.
“Will you stay with me?” she repeats.
I look at her imploring eyes – big, chocolate brown eyes that somehow have a glint in them even in the darkness. I hesitate. I had plans. I was going to tidy up, read, relax, and then spend some quiet time in prayer.
I’m about to say this much, but instead I hear myself saying, “Sure, I’ll rest beside you. Now go to sleep, sweet girl.”
She beams at me. I smile back. My arms pull her close. Her body is warm against mine. She is long and lanky now, but pressed against me she reminds me of the baby who used to fold into me to nurse and to snuggle. Her breathing slows. I swipe her hair that smells faintly of coconut shampoo from her face and tuck it behind her ear – the same ear I remember staring at a few days after she was born and breaking down, sobbing, at the perfection of it. My baby’s perfectly formed ear! Some of the awe returns now as I marvel at the growth that has taken place over the past six years. The ear is bigger but still perfect.
I kiss her forehead. She doesn’t stir. Her breathing is slow and steady. She’s asleep, but I decide to stay a little longer, to keep that space on the bed next to her warm, the same space she sometimes asks me to fill with an over-sized stuffed dog named Honey when I leave. “After awhile, Honey starts to feel a little like you,” she said to me recently. “It’s like you’re still here kind of.”
I’m still here.
On this night, my hands never were folded in prayer, but I prayed all the same accepting an opportunity to give and to love and offering my presence as an answered prayer to my child.
This is so sweet, Kate — reminds me of the peaceful slumber my DH and daughter enjoy when he slips in beside her (at her request) after he gets home. So sweet!
Such a beautiful post! And a wonderful reminder that our child/ren's interruptions to our "plans" are sometimes what make the day truly blessed.
Kate, this was beautiful and it struck such a chord with me- that could have been Kinley and me you were writing about. I just started crying reading it. Chad puts Kinley down most nights now, and while it was a relief for a little while, I miss that time with her and I'm glad when she asks for me. I hope she'll keep asking for me for a while longer. These girls are growing up too quickly. It wasn't that long ago we were rocking them, and nursing them, and rocking them some more. I wish I had appreciated that time more when I had it, but it was hard in that moment at times. Sorry for the rambling, nostalgic post :)
Oh, Kate, this made me cry! So beautiful! There are lots of times that I fret because I need to get some housework done when I am trying to get Joe to sleep, but I remind myself to cherish these precious moments. He's growing too fast as it is!
I always appreciate rambling, nostalgic posts and sappy tears from others. :-) It makes me feel less silly for getting all teary eyed over this thing called mothering!
Blessings!
Beautiful, just beautiful. Thanks for sharing it.
Lovely, Kate. So lovely. And I don't think there is ever anything 'silly' about marveling at the awesome beauty and perfection of God's creation, even when it is something as commonplace as an ear or this thing called motherhood. :-)
Kimberlee, you are so right. I'm going to marvel away! :-)
Ok, I know I already commented on this post. But I had to tell you that I saved the email of this post in my Inbox and when I reread it today, I had the sudden urge to finish up my "to do" list as quickly as possible so I could go be with my son. You have such a gift with words, Kate!
Helen, I'm so glad this post was a "keeper" for you. Thanks for your encouragement (that goes for everyone!).
God bless.