I didn’t hear the warnings.
Mom, dad, my sister and many friends around me told me this would happen too.
It was around 5am one morning when it all hit me. Our son was struggling through a stomach virus and woke up early needing some love and attention, and most importantly, a bottle. I headed upstairs to tend to him when it dawned on me that I didn’t get to do this very much anymore with any of my kids. Our twin daughters used to love it when daddy rocked them to sleep. My wife Julie certainly got to do it more than I, but they seemed to soak it in the first few years when it was my turn. Today, they are closing in on 4 years old and the rockings have nearly stopped. Every now and then I can slow them down enough to cuddle with them while watching the latest "Wiggles” or “Elmo”. But it’s still nothing like the days of holding them both as they were wrapped up like little human burritos in a soft blankie.
Our son is approaching 2 years old and he is getting more and more independent by the day. We already missed out on months of being able to rock and comfort him since he was adopted when he was 9 months old. This makes the times in the rocker even more special. He never slows down enough to let me do much rocking at all. It was about the only sliver of joy that came out of him being as sick as he was.
That night was special. The cold air was buzzing around outside and our heaters were humming, working hard to prepare for the annual Texas ice-storm that was about to blow in. I knew it was going to be a long day anyway so I figured before it all got rolling I would enjoy holding my little boy. He snuggled close, wrapped up in his Dallas Cowboys blanket just as I had dreamed the son I would have would years ago. It wasn’t long before his breathing was deep and little snores made their way to my ears. I just kept rocking.
Just a few hours later, the house awoke with a blur of activity; making breakfast, getting kids dressed, checking the news, taking out the trash, taking showers and the likes. I soon headed to work where business consumed me quickly.
Those few moments in the “rock-rock” might have been some of the last for me but that brief time spent with Quinn in my arms in the glider won’t soon be forgotten. God willing, Julie and I are happy with having just three kids. It means the days of the diapers, late night bottle feedings, and sadly, the need for being rocked are slowing fading away. In one sense we are excited to move past it. Yet in another it makes me realize I will never be a parent in that way again.
I’m just amazed at how fast life truly goes by.
Poof! My babies are now all little kids.
And though I’ve heard the warnings today about what is around the corner for tomorrow I am not sure I won’t be just as surprised.
“Children are a blessing from the Lord, and the fruit of the womb is His reward.” Psalms 127:3
© 2009, J. Brady
"I say it how I see it and I make no bones about it."
