You're my child forever, but only my baby for a year...

As I peeked over the bed to check to see if you were still sleeping, I realized I could go get the dishwasher unloaded if I hurried. I could probably switch the wash over to the dryer and get those towels that have been sitting in there folded and put away.

But as I watched your chest gently rise and fall, I realized I should just come lay next to you ...

Because you're my child forever, but only my baby for a year.

I quietly ran back to the kitchen to grab my coffee that was sitting on the counter and threw it in the microwave. I grabbed a muffin from the pantry and gathered a few of the half drank water bottles your brother and sisters had left strewn about the house. As I quietly ran back to the bedroom to check on you, there you were in the same position.

But as I saw you move and possibly begin to waken, I realized I should just come lay next to you ...

Because you're my child forever, but only my baby for a year.

I glanced at my Peloton sitting just an arm's length away from the bed. My shoes were sitting right beside it, ready for me to slide into. I bet I could have got a short ride in and maybe even rinsed off quickly after.

But as I listened to your tiny baby breaths breathe in and out, so unsteady yet perfectly, I realized I should just come lay next to you ...

Because you're my child forever, but only my baby for a year.

My phone buzzed again. Another email and three more messages just came through. I bet I could have hammered through 5-10 people that were waiting to hear from me. I need to take care of the bills that are due by the end of next week. I have my organized mess of to do notes sitting on my agenda on top of my desk. I really, truly need to sift through that growing pile.

But as I thought about the list I had proudly created last night of all I was going to accomplish today, I realized I should just come lay next to you ...

Because you're my child forever, but only my baby for a year.

I started to anxiously pace back out of the room, internally fighting myself as I wanted to feel accomplished. I wanted to take advantage of this time you were asleep. I needed to "use" this time so I could feel "good" about myself later thinking all I had checked off of my list and got through.

Moments later I found myself back beside the bed staring over you once again. I leaned over to make sure you were still breathing as your perfect body barely moved.

But as I touched your tiny hand and ever so carefully put mine around it, I realized I should just come lay next to you ...

Because you're my child forever, but only my baby for a year.

As I reached to lift you after you slowly began to stir, I scooped you up just like I must have done at least five hundred times before and laid you onto my chest.

But I realized I should come lay next to you more often, even as you lay there asleep unknowingly what I have or haven't done because it doesn't matter to you.

Because you're my child forever, but only my baby for a year.

I sighed. I melted as you softly yet purposefully tightened your tiny fingers around mine. And as your eyes were still closed, you began to smile ever so slightly as if to think to yourself, There she is. She finally listened to me. She's here. She's next to me. It feels good to just have her near me.

Because you're my child forever, but only my baby for a year.