When he is Sleeping

Several people have commented or asked why I take so many pictures of Noah sleeping.  Excellent question.

Every night, I tuck Noah into bed…pulling the covers up under his chin, pushing the hair off his forehead with my fingers, just enough to unveil the perfect spot for my kiss.  We pray, I tell him I love him and as I turn off the light, I send him off into dream land.  Several hours later, before I go to bed myself, I visit his room again.  I push his hair aside once more for another kiss and whisper ‘I love you to the stars and back”.

I like watching him while he sleeps.  Because obviously he’s totally adorable.  But also because it reminds me of all the nights I would stand next to his crib, gazing upon this little cherub faced baby boy, while my heart filled with wonder and delight, hope and expectation.

I still gaze at this little man while he sleeps, filled with wonder and delight…but the hope and expectation?  Well, it’s different.  I am still filled with hope.  More than I ever knew was possible.  But the expectation?  I’m learning to let that one go.  What is the point of it?  Instead, I focus on the hope…and I add some gratitude.  My heart swells when I look down at him sleeping.  It fills with love and joy, because when he is sleeping, I know his mind is at rest.  And I know he is at his most peaceful self.  Minus the pain and darkness.  Less the self hatred and loathing.  While he is sleeping, he is the truest form of himself.  The one I first met when I held him in my arms the first time, all 4 pounds of him.  The one who was yet to bear the weight and heaviness of a tormented mind and tortured soul.

I look at him and hope for peace.  Peace of mind.  Peace in his heart.

This.  This is why I take so many pictures of him while he is sleeping.

Because when he is sleeping, he is safe.  He is whole.  And he is my baby, still unmarked by a brutal world full of hurt.

And when he is sleeping, he loves himself.  And that’s all that really matters.