7/13/09

Comforter

I snuggled against the pillows in my big sleigh bed and opened my book. A Sunday afternoon nap would have been nice but sleep would not come. Within an hour I heard the first quiet raindrops - scouting, reaching down to test us out, where we sat on that hill - deciding whether to call down the storm or move past to a choicer location. Thunder cracked like a cannon once and loud. The decision was made.

I heard the baby start to cry upstairs. He has become nervous about rainstorms, particularly in the car where even a sprinkling results in insistence that someone hold his hand as we drive along.

He'd not gotten his nap out so I waited to see if he'd fall back asleep. He didn't.

The rain was coming down slant-wise now and forceful against the bedroom window. He was crying again, the scared cry, and I hate that one in particular. I got up and went swiftly to his room and he reached for me with his face wet and deep-grooved with his little fear, eyes red and frightened. I picked him up easily, he wrapped his sturdy body around my thin one, and I moved again swiftly back down the hall, my desire to comfort him making him seem light and easy, as opposed to his usual bowling ball heft.

He kept sobbing even still, with his sleep-damp head on my shoulder, all the way back to the big sleigh bed. He cried open-mouthed and shut-eyed as I tucked him in and crawled in beside him, curling myself and pulling him into the 'c' of my body, all the time whispering in his ear it's okay, Mommy has you, it's only rain, just a little rain, God has to water the plants and trees you know, it's okay, Mommy has you sweet M...

He quieted. I brushed hair from his warm forehead and then settled still, closing my eyes so that he would close his too. After a minute, I peeked. His baby face, so soft and fresh, was relaxed again, eyes closed, breathing steady and slow.

He is a boy and in quick-quick time a man will materialize, stretching and stepping slowly upwards and outwards with each passing season. He will be twice my size, if current growth patterns are any indicator, and strong and smart and capable. And utterly unafraid of Sunday afternoon rainstorms.

This small Sunday he fits in the curve of me. He is unafraid now. Safe. I am a strong and sure thing of which there is no doubt. This illusion I relish, and I am willing to suspend my own doubt, my aged knowing, allowing his complete belief in my special powers to make it absolutely so.

It is one of the multitude of bittersweet things about these children; understanding that in our ability and their need, this humbling empowerment they so fully bestow is fleeting and fragile.

21 comments:

Loukia said...

What a beautiful, touching post. It's so bittersweet, isn't it? We just want to hold on to these moments forever, knowing how quickly they grow... how big they'll get... how they will need us less and less in moments like those, when our hugs are all the comfort they need. Sigh. Bittersweet, right?

mo.stoneskin said...

Something that keeps getting me is the times when I'm low - not because of the rain, mind! - and then the baby needs a cuddle, or play, or just patience (mine, she don't have any...), and again I realise that it isn't so much about me anymore!

Jessica Miller Kelley said...

"...my desire to comfort him making him seem light and easy, as opposed to his usual bowling ball heft."

That's my favorite line. This post is just beautiful.

BlondeMomBlog (Jamie) said...

OK you're making me cry. What a beautiful post Amy!! It is bittersweet.

IdleMindOfBeth said...

Beautiful post. Just beautiful!

VanderbiltWife said...

Really lovely, Amy. This is what I miss about blogging as reviews and carnivals have taken over--the sweet, simple stories; the excellent writing. Bravo!

Deanna said...

what a moment to treasure.... how quickly our little ones grow up to be independent! sometimes I wish they'd stay this little forever! I did say 'sometimes' didn't I?! Ha!

maitlandmommy AKA Sheri said...

oh, you're killing me - my boys are with their dad this week. i remember how much i loved those moments when i was superwoman in their eyes - totally safe in mommy's arms. Truth be told - i was the one getting comforted. I miss my babies so much. damn you amy. ;-)

Megan said...

This makes my uterus hurt - I wish I could have kids to love in that way

Renée aka Mekhismom said...

This is so beautifully written. I can just read it over and over again. Thank you.

Amy said...

Megan - Gosh I wish your link was "live" and I could find you. I'm so sorry. Thank you for commenting on this in spite of it. I'm so so sorry.

evenshine said...

Amy- one of your best. Absolutely captures those moments that make all the meltdowns, batches of laundry, and months of teething worth it. Bowling balls included.

Momo Fali said...

I just LOVED this!!

The Urban Cowboy said...

It's moms like you that help develop cowboys like me!

Ellen Stewart (aka Ellie/El) said...

My son is almost 23, but I still sometimes wake to a storm and wait for him to need me. That hasn't happened since he was 14, and during one summer middle of the night storm we sat together--end to end--on the couch and "rode it out." I had a big triple sliding glass door and we let the room be lit by lightning.

It's a precious moment to remember.

Selfishly, when he was small, I didn't mind the intrusion of the storm or of Mac. It felt so good to be needed, to be seen as strong.

I love reading "mom blogs", they stir so many good memories.

Thanks.

Amy said...

The Urban Cowboy - Thanks, that is an awesome comment.

Michele Renee said...

I loved this post Amy. My boys are off again with my hubs having an adventure in FL after I had to fly back for work. I miss them! The days of them waking up scared are over. But my 8 yr old still likes to be read to and they all like to be tucked in.

purejoy said...

okay, i'm crying. so beautiful! it made me think of the conversation i just had with my all grown up son. who still needs his mommy. whose little chin was quivering and just needed a hug. (woman problems)
sons are absolutely the best!

Trenches of Mommyhood said...

Beautiful.

*sigh*

And now I'm so very wistful about what's to come. I wish they'd stay little(ish) forever.

Pop and Ice said...

I so miss those snuggly times in toddler-hood. And I can't hold and kiss away the hurts for my teenagers. I wish I'd been able to have a baby with my 2nd husband - it would have been all sorts of wonderful.

Amo said...

Sorry I am so far behind on my reader!

This post was so beautiful. I am ending my evening with it in my head. You are such an awesome mother and woman.

Thanks for sharing the inspiration. Going to tuck the boys in one more time.

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