Sleeping Child

I never knew I could love someone so much.  Its scary. It borderlines on obsession.  My every waking moment is consumed with thoughts of her, even when she is right in front of me.

I cannot help but gaze upon her face, and if you handed me pen and paper right now I do believe I could draw it from memory, the way her eyes open when she’s excited, the cute shape her mouth makes when she’s sleeping.  I wish I could also draw the softness of her skin, and the sound of her voice.

I love the sound of her voice, and am thrilled every morning when I hear it.  Morning time has become a ritual, the day starting off with her chatting and squealing to me, and my coaxing her to say more during our “conversations”.  I love the fact that my mornings are full of smiles and giggles from her, and they will never fail to bring a smile to my own lips.


Look at those eyes!

With all her attributes, its her eyes that always get me.  They meet mine and they are pure, untainted by distrust, uncertainty, or doubt.  It will break my heart to watch these feelings creep into her eyes as she loses her naivete, her innocence, and learns that the world is not always full of arms to hold her.  My arms will always be available, that is all I can promise.




My Sleeping Child

I look down at this child sleeping next to me, and I wonder what she dreams about.  What draws her lips into a smile and coaxes a soft giggle from her?  My day is full of questions: if she is warm enough? Is she comfortable?  Is she supported, buckled in, hungry?  Is she ever happy, sad, or scared?  Does she even know what those feelings are?  All these questions, and these are just the tip of the iceberg.

I think about her future and what I may be able to offer her.  So many plans, and she’s not even 4 months old yet.  Private schooling? Yes, but in her high school years unless by some miracle I can afford it sooner.  Music lessons? Definitely, but acoustic instruments before electric ones are considered.  Swim lessons?  Hopefully every summer until she is three, but certainly no later than three.  Kickboxing when she is four, and if she doesn’t like it we’ll try everything she wants till she finds her favorites.  We’ll try everything she wants even if she DOES like it.  College? Of course, but two years of junior college before transferring to a four year school.

See?  Already, so many plans.  I think on them all and wonder what we will actually have time for.  I wonder what she will actually want to do?  What will she like?  Will she prefer art to sport?  Theater to dance?  Or will she be the jock, playing sports with no interest in learning?  Will she be a good mix of sport and art, as well as have scholarly interests?

Will she want to travel, or be a homebody?  Will we spend our weekends exploring our surroundings? Will we spend them at home working on our creativity?

I look at my child, sleeping next to me, and I am so grateful that I have her.  I hope in the bustle of the day to day routine, and with all my plans for her future, that I always remember to stop and appreciate our time together, and never take any one of her smiles for granted.  I hope that I always feel joy at the sound of her voice, and that when she looks at me I never see uncertainty or doubt in her eyes.  I know it won’t always be smiles and giggles, that fights, screams, and tears are in our future.  I just hope she always knows how much I love her, and at the end of any day, no matter how badly we may fight, my arms will always be there to hold her.

About Chaos5150

I'm a medical coder by day, hermit by night, a 24 hr mommy, and a closet line-dancer whenever I get the chance. I love my daughter, I love my job, I love my friends, I love my cats, and I love my family. I love the dry heat, driving into the middle of the desert at night to see the moon and the stars, beading jewelry, torturing the unaware, and scaring people. People say I'm evil, but I'm not. I'm just a little mischievous.
This entry was posted in parenthood and tagged , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s