Updated: June 30, 2021
Originally Published: March 13, 2016
I glance to my right and notice her eyes are shut tight. Leaning closer, I confirm that her typically animated face and chatty demeanor have softened into peaceful slumber. Sleep must have snuck up on her during the movie, lulling her into a dreamland where she can escape and explore the stories her mind conjures.
My heart swells with affection, and I can’t help but smile at the task ahead. Quietly, I ease myself off the couch, pushing the coffee table out of the way, and assess my next move. This time, she has brought her favorite fluffy blanket and her beloved giant bunny. I place Bunny in front of her, wrap her snugly in the blanket, and lift all three into my arms.
Navigating the dim basement floor, I keep my bare feet alert for any trip hazards her brother might have left behind as I make my way to the stairs. With her nestled tightly against me, I ascend the 17 steps, carrying the combined weight of my little girl, Bunny, and her cozy blanket. The weight doesn’t bother me; my only concern is avoiding any bumps or scrapes along the way.
I realize these moments are fleeting. I won’t always be the one she drifts off next to, trusting that I will bring her safely to bed. I won’t always be the preferred movie-watching companion or the one she seeks for comfort. These are the special aspects of motherhood that will gradually fade as she grows up.
As I transition from the plush carpet of the stairs to the cool hardwood of the hallway, I instinctively lean over to shield her face from the harsh overhead light. I can hear my husband typing away in his office, the sounds of ESPN murmuring in the background. I gently hush her, hoping to keep her in dreamland, and turn the corner to tackle the next flight of stairs.
My son sits in the chair behind my husband, utterly engrossed in the glowing screen, perhaps intentionally ignoring me to avoid the bedtime routine. It’s hard to say. He’s my eldest, a bright and evolving child, caught between wanting to grow up and still holding onto the innocence of his toothless childhood smile. That smile can uplift and unravel me in equal measure, but it’s absent now as he focuses on the flashing highlights of the day’s sports events.
I shift my attention back to my bundle of joy. The sounds and lights are stirring her, and I instinctively bounce her against my chest, willing her eyelids to remain closed. They comply. With my elbow, I click off the upstairs light and continue our ascent.
Fifteen more steps with this load are a breeze. I know I can manage it without help or hesitation. I’ve navigated far tougher challenges since becoming a mother, and I’m well aware that the real difficulties lie ahead. I am determined not to drop her; I hold her with every ounce of strength I possess.
We finally enter her room, which, despite her earlier claims, remains a jumble of ponies, art supplies, and toys. I maneuver around the clutter until I reach her unmade bed. Using my knee, I manage to shift the blankets aside just enough to lay her down in her favorite spot. After a little adjustment, I tuck her in snugly, with Bunny to her right and the Minion blanket to her left, ensuring the bedding is snug against her chin. Looking down at her, I’m reminded of how fleeting these moments are.
I can’t predict how many more times I will carry her like this. I don’t know how long she will remain my little girl, or when she will outgrow my arms, my comforting presence, and my role in her life. These moments slip away silently, and I dread the day I realize they have passed. So, I will cherish the weight she allows me to carry for as long as she needs it.
I’ll memorize the scent of maple and markers that lingers when we’re this close, believing in my ability to lift her safely to her destination as she needs. A soft huff disrupts the silence as she turns and curls up, settling back into peacefulness. I smooth the covers over her once more, place a gentle kiss on her head, and quietly retreat from her room, whispering a wish for sweet dreams, “I love you.”
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Summary:
This heartfelt narrative beautifully captures the tender moments of motherhood, particularly the experience of carrying a sleepy child to bed. The author reflects on the fleeting nature of these cherished experiences and the deep emotional connections formed during such simple acts of care.