Rockabye my baby.

Tonight as we gave the little ones their bath, we realized we were running low on lotion and I put it in my mental grocery list that somehow gets longer each day...even though I go to the store almost everyday.

I took my sick son to his room and realized that my husband forgot to put lotion on his face and neck. Wanting him to be as comfortable as possible (because his fever is already torture enough) I rummaged under his sink and found a bottle of lotion.

I rubbed it on his face, neck and hair and put it back under the sink, then zipped him up in his sleep sack. I sat in our big comfy chair and held him close as I gave him some water and then his pacifier.

The minute I inserted his pacifier he sighed and leaned close, placing his head directly over my heart and curling his body around me. I leaned back and felt his entire weight on my chest. Then it hit me. My mouth and nose were buried right in the middle of his hair and my face was resting on his head. My eyes whelled up with tears with such force they shot down my cheeks on onto his hair.

The lotion I had quickly grabbed was the same lotion we used on them when they were newborns. I hadn't smelled that smell since they were 3 months old but it was enough to send my memories and my emotions into hyperdrive.

Like all moms, I have many regrets about their newborn stage. As I've said before the job of being a first time mom is the hardest thing you will ever do. You don't know what you're doing but you're faking it really well. For me, I was so focused on my task at hand (keeping them alive and getting them on a synched up schedule) that I didn't really enjoy the job.

I tend to be a goal oriented person and I saw my mission clearly. Unfortunately I missed a lot of the good stuff along the way. I see this is why women have second babies, to make up for all the mistakes and all that they missed with the first one.

Our family is done but I can easily admit that it pains my heart that I will not get that "second chance" to take it all in. I wouldn't care about crib training. I wouldn't care about spoiling them. I wouldn't care about becoming their sleep prop. I'd hold the next one with every waking second I had and let them sleep on my chest until they woke up again.

Once I had gotten a hold of myself I came back to the room. My son breathing in and out with my breaths, his warmth and his security. That little voice in the back of my head said, put him in his crib, you don't want him to get used to this or else he'll want to fall asleep on your chest every night. The other 99% of my brain slapped the shit out of that little voice and I laid there in the dark as long as I wanted. Until his drool soaked my shirt through and I could no longer feel my arms.