It's grey outside still. That pre-dawn early light filters through the window, barely enough to make out a tiny baby hand; a pudgy ball on my chest. Quiet time. Quiet baby. Quiet sister. Quiet breathing, slow and deep.
This is Mommy hour. Mommy's time to think. Mommy's time to absorb. Time to hold you and rock you. To smell your hair and your breath and the sweet spot on the back of your neck. Time to feel. To feel adoration for the incredible little being you are. To feel inadequate and appreciative. To feel awed and worried and full to the brim with wonder all at once. Time to miss you when you were smaller and dream about who you'll be when you're grown. Time to memorize the perfect little you that you are today because I know tomorrow you'll be just a fraction bigger and I can never forget the tiny you you used to be.
Sleep now. Glorious little one. Round cheeks and suckling lips. Perfection in morning haze. Time for Mommy's morning to end and the world to begin. Cover you in blankets and prayers. Listen to you and soak you in for a minute more. Mommy loves you. Oh, Mommy loves you.
Perfect morning to get me through the day.
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