Tonight I layed down very carefully next to you in bed. You were doing your best to cover as much territory as you could as the fan blew air down on you. I am rather convinced you are part Eskimo and positive you must be related to a polar bear. Your long now gangly legs all tangled up in the bed sheets, your arms curled under your chin, and your breathing rapid and shallow. I curl up next to your surprisingly still too warm despite gale force winds body and do what every mother on the face of the planet does and smell those sweet curls on the top of your head. You, my son, are such an angel when you sleep.
Too often we are running in circles trying to get lunch boxes packed, baths finished, and laundry put away to stop and truly look. Oh I am completely guilty of this myself considering we have three children. However, tonight I look at you my handsome boy. You’ve grown so much this past year. We are rounding on another birthday. Birthdays are my favorite! Well, at least they used to be. I used to relish you turning another year older, another milestone reached. Now, I wish with all I have to stop the leaking sands of time from relentlessly flowing. It’s like an imaginary countdown to termination. I don’t feel like this daily or I would be in non-stop panic mode. No, only when I stop to realize just how much my baby has grown, how much his condition has progressed, and how much I wish there was a cure or at least a treatment to slow down the hands of time. Alas, all I can do is be thankful to lean down and smell those soft curls and be thankful that I can. There will come a day when I can no longer.
So, today my sweet boy, I am going to not just snuggle you not to stay warm, but because I am having one of those moments where A-T is getting the best of me. Tomorrow I will go back to being your mom who wears a cape, can leap lunchboxes in a single bound, and knows the proper angle to lauch trains into the toy box. For now though, I am going to be a woman, a mother, who just wants to hold her baby for another day.