As I glance to my right, I find her eyes peacefully shut. Leaning closer, I see her normally vibrant and chatty features softened by sleep. It must have snuck up on her during the movie, gently urging her to surrender to the sweet dreams waiting within her mind.
A wave of affection washes over me as I prepare for the task ahead. Quietly, I rise from my corner of the couch, shifting the coffee table aside, and assessing my options. This time she has brought her favorite blanket and a plush bunny along, so I place Bunny in front of her, wrap her in the blanket, and gather them all into my arms.
As I navigate through the dimly lit basement, I tread carefully to avoid any toys left scattered by her and her brother. Holding her close, I ascend the 17 steps with the combined weight of my little girl, her beloved toy, and her fluffy blanket. The burden is familiar; my only concern is avoiding any door frames that might jostle her.
These moments are fleeting. I realize that I won’t always be the one she feels safe enough to doze off beside, or the person she seeks out for comfort and companionship. As she grows, these cherished parts of motherhood will inevitably fade.
Stepping from the plush carpet onto the cool hardwood of the hallway, I instinctively shield her face from the bright overhead lights. From my husband’s office, the sounds of typing and ESPN drift into the air. I softly whisper “shhh” over her ears, hoping to keep her in slumber as I turn to take the next flight of stairs. My son is seated behind my husband, captivated by the screen, his focus unwavering, either unaware of my presence or intentionally ignoring me to prolong his bedtime.
It’s hard to decipher at this moment. As the eldest, he is clever and evolving, yearning for independence but still possessing that charming smile from his toothless days. I glance back at my daughter, and the sounds and light shift her slightly, prompting me to bounce her gently against my chest to help her stay asleep. I click off the upstairs light with my elbow, and we continue our ascent.
Climbing fifteen more steps feels like second nature. I know we will reach the top without incident; I trust my strength and experience as a mother. The more challenging moments lie ahead, but right now, I am determined not to let her down.
Upon entering her room, I find it just as untidy as she left it earlier. I navigate around scattered toys and artwork until I reach her unmade bed. Using my knee, I shuffle the blankets aside to place her in her favorite sleeping spot, maneuvering her legs carefully and tucking her in snugly. With Bunny on one side and her Minions blanket on the other, I pull the bedding up to her chin. Looking down, I feel a sense of loss, as if I’ve misplaced a beloved blanket; the warmth is present, but the comforting weight is no longer there.
I can’t predict how many more times I will have the chance to carry her like this. I wonder how much longer she will remain my little girl, when the day will come that she outgrows my arms or no longer seeks my comfort. These moments slip by unnoticed, and I dread the day they do. So, I cherish every ounce of weight she willingly gives me and commit her scent of maple and markers to memory.
A soft sigh breaks the silence as she shifts and curls into a ball before settling once more. I smooth her covers one last time, plant a gentle kiss on her head, and quietly retreat from her room, whispering a wish for sweet dreams and “I love you.”
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Summary
In the tender moments of carrying her sleepy child, a mother reflects on the fleeting nature of childhood. As she navigates the familiar path to her daughter’s room, she savors the warmth and weight of her little girl in her arms, appreciating the connection they share. Time will inevitably change their relationship, but for now, she embraces these cherished moments of motherhood.