You don't know this, but right now I am sitting in the dark, on the floor of your bedroom, watching you sleep. I miss the days when you used to curl up in my arms; instead, you curl up under your covers. I stare at your soft face and listen intently to your quiet breathing; this is the most peaceful you get nowadays, but I take those moments for granted, don't I?
I often forget that you haven't always been here. Most days I lose all recollection of when I wasn't a mother. But at the same time, I remember your birth like it was yesterday, dying to get you out of me so I could just hold you. I wish I had cherished it more.
As I sit here and watch your tiny chest moving up and down, my mind flutters with all the wonderful things you will do in your life, imagining exactly who you will become. A thousand possibilities, a million scenarios, but all of you being a strong, incredible person. All the things you may be, but I begin to tear as I think of all the things you have already been. I think of the little bean I saw, eight weeks young on the screen the day I fell in love. I think of the sweet tiny baby you became while tossing and turning in my growing stomach. I think of the fragile baby the nurse handed me that day in the hospital. So tiny yet so life-changing. I wish I had cherished it more.
Staring at your tiny feet poking out from under the blanket, I think of all the places they have taken you, from your first steps to playing on the playground to running playfully away from me while I chase you. It won't be long before you to actually go. The thought makes me tear up. There are so many places you have gone, but so much more you are yet to travel. Only a couple hours ago you were running to kiss me goodnight. I wish I had cherished it more.
I kiss your forehead and, to my dismay, you don't smell like a newborn baby anymore. My mind takes me back to all the times I have kissed that same spot on your head, from the first time I kissed you to your first day of daycare and each of the million times in between. I know it won't be long until you are dodging kisses from your mom because they just aren't cool. I need to cherish them more.
You begin to toss in bed and I slowly sneak out, but not without another glimpse of my darling little boy. I whisper you a silent goodnight as I procrastinate walking away. I know soon, our goodnights will be brief and fleeting. I know my days of tucking you in, in this bed, in this room, in this house are all numbered, but I quietly promise you I will cherish them more.