Snuggling

Last night I was curled up in bed, sweater on, hood pulled over my head, Hugger in hand, tired and sad and wanting to sleep, wanting to forget.

I hear the pitter-patter of little feet on carpet, I look up, and see Cade’s big blue eyes peering at me.

“Mama, can I snuggle with you? I promise I’ll be quiet I won’t make any noise pwease?”

This breaks my heart. My child could fart the national anthem for all I care. I’ll always want to snuggle with him.

“C’mere Honey. Momma loves snuggling with her Tade.”

And he is relieved and happily jumps in the bed, turns around, and presses his little diaper-clad bottom snug against my stomach. I have my arms around him, and I am smoothing his tangled hair, and I am thinking how much I love him, and how much I already love the perfect little being growing inside me. The love is almost too much. It is such a good feeling.

His breathing begins to slow, and his body starts to twitch like it does when you are on the verge of blissful sleep. This makes me smile. I am awed at how quickly he can fall asleep. A clear mind with nothing on his conscience, or nothing troubling him; that’s the kind of mind that can quickly fall asleep. I envy that.

It’s at times like these that I wish (and can almost convince myself) that my life wasn’t more than this. More than cuddling with my baby and feeling love and joy so tangible and real.

But yes, it’s more than that. It’s more trouble and denial and fear fear fear but it’s during moments like these that I am reminded life is Good and I praise God for giving me them; giving me brief glimpses that love and yes even something as small as snuggling is bigger than any fear or problem I could ever have.

I think of this, and then I fall asleep. Quickly.