I did things differently today. I wasn’t bothered that my son woke up at 6:37am. I simply gave him some cashew yogurt and we sat on the couch as his daddy got ready for work. I watched him kiss and hug my husband “see you later” and then did the same. I searched for something different to watch on tv this morning and found my childhood favorite “Gullah Gullah Island.” We both watched with curiosity and joy.

I made us oatmeal and we ate together at the table. I asked him to bless the food and he said “God is good. God is good. Amen.” His signature prayer adapted from the original “God is good. Good is great.” I laugh and we share spoonfuls of almond buttery oats together. He shakes his hands “all done” and we break into the living room to play. Well, he played as I read my book.

I decided I wanted to make a veggie lentil soup for dinner so I recruited my tiny chef to assist. He washed dishes (played with the sponges and soapy water) then helped prep the meal. He’s almost as tall as me inside his wooden tower nowadays. I’m no longer growing in height but he is. We peeled purple carrots bare then used his wiggly toddler knife to dice it up. Before I could put it all into the pot, he snuck a few into his mouth.

After prepping dinner, I let him watch his favorite shows and I got time to catch up on voice memos and texts with friends. They live thousands of miles away and still I feel them next door. We FaceTime my mom, his grandma, well his “Rema”, briefly. He always acts a little crazier when he sees her, we can’t figure out why but it’s funny. I know seeing him lifts her spirit daily.

I offer him a tiny chocolate cookie from the batch I made last night. I ate one with him on the couch until the credits rolled on the screen. We didn’t fight the potty training today so there were many high fives and cheers before nap time.

He’s always resistant but I didn’t want to fight at all today. So I did things differently. I sat in his tiny chair by his bed and he sat on my lap. I read aloud one of his favorite books, “The Goodnight Train.” I read it slow and low. By the end his blue eyes were fluttering to a close. I wrapped my sweater covered arms around his body. Rested my cheek on top his curly head as he rested his face against my chest. I whispered “I love you Emery. You are the best thing in my life. I promise I’ll give you a good life.” And just like that, he drifted to sleep.

Time stood still.

I felt fully as peace and ease holding him. Nothing hurt. No tension. Just satisfaction. I felt satisfied with what I was doing and holding. A life that came from my womb, from my heart, was resting on me effortlessly. I looked around his room in awe. I was surrounded by things given to him out of love. I was also surrounded by a ton of trains/train themed things. And for the first time, I thought maybe they’re a sign? Then I looked at his toes, and was grateful to see all of them and that they all worked.

I was steeping in satisfaction. I was in love with the space we were in. Nothing else mattered and there was no sense of time. I wanted to hold him forever. I forgave everyone in that moment because I realized maybe it all had to happen and be said that way for me to have him. To have him in that moment specifically.

I remembered who I am. I remembered what I’m best at. I’m gifted at nurturing. I nurture everything to their highest form. Plants, people, projects, etc. I do it best whole. I wanted to cry because I needed to recommit to myself a promise. A promise to heal from wounds as many times as I need to so that I can nurture my son wholeheartedly. He deserves that. I deserves that. My heart was aching for days prior and in that moment I was healed whole again.

Eventually, I had to transferred him into his bed. I did with as much grace as I could to not startle him. He settled perfectly into his bed and looked angelic per usual asleep. I kissed his warm cheek, closed the curtains and the door. He slept long and well.

I retreated to my room to write in my journal. To etch onto paper this moment. These moments usually never leave the private pages of my journals but I felt called to share with you. Because I know that this is a side of parenting that we rarely, if ever, hear about. I want you to know some mothers do love the experience and their children. That it brings joy, healing & deep deep satisfaction at times. I wrote this for those of you who ask me “is it worth it?” I hope this was a clear yes.

I love being Emery’s mother. I do not mind the challenges because they are meant to happen and we all grow from them. I do not mind the blessings because they’re beyond my imagination or dreams. I don’t recall another time in my life where I’ve felt that type of satisfaction or just that feeling in general. I’m not sure I even put it into words quite right. It was special and I wonder when it’ll find me again. I loved it.

Thank you for listening from my heart today.

With love greater than I can explain,

Carrington