There’s a sweet sleeping babe on my lap.
She breathes deeply while off in dreamland.
Her late night snack is done. She’s finished drinking deeply the life giving milk and she sleeps.
I can’t help but pull her close to my skin and inhale that intoxicating scent.
Fresh from heaven.
Her sister still has that smell. Just barely, but when I gobble her up into my arms and she gives way into me for just a moment I can smell it. Heaven.
Their brother smells like a boy. Dirty and wonderful and stinky all at the same time. I remember it like it were yesterday though. He was the one melting into my skin. Wrapped like baby bunting and breathing deeply. I need to hold him still but he is so busy. I cling to the moments when we hug and snuggle. When he wants to stop and choose me to be his safe place.
These babies are gifts. I admit that often I don’t see them as that. But they are. The most beautiful. The most exhausting. The most fantastically wonderful of gifts. I am unworthy of such a gift. Like grace, I am so unworthy.
My prayer is to be worthy. To be there and present for the moments. To see them for the gifts they are. And treasure them.