The first month DC was with us, he couldn’t fall asleep. New place, new crib, new faces, it was all so unfamiliar to him that as soon as he relaxed enough that sleep was possible, all the strangeness rushed in and he’d wake up again, crying. I’d go to him, pat his back if that’s all he needed, or pick him up and rock him. Whatever it took to let him feel more secure and more love. Sometimes I’d be rocking and gently bouncing him, sitting on the corner of the guest room bed, for hours.
That was true the first month that DC was with us, back in July. I was up all hours of the night when he would wake up in a strange place and begin to cry.
And that was true again this past weekend, which was DC’s last weekend with us. I don’t know how he knew what was going on, but he was unsettled again, wanting to be held, and crying when he would not fall asleep instantly. Today he moves to live with his uncle, aunt, and cousins. They are the lucky ones who will get to cuddle him forever.
Maybe he knew *I* needed it. I needed those extra cuddles these last few days, too. I needed hours spent on the exercise ball, lights out, bouncing gently, whispering “I love you”. I needed those little arms reaching up out of the crib, asking for a hug.
I will miss being his mother.
God speed, little DC. May you grow strong in the house with your relatives. May you learn to trust them the way you trusted us. And may God bring us new children who need to be loved, rocked, hugged, and cuddled long into the night. You trained us well, and we’re ready for them.
3 thoughts on “The end was like the beginning”
This is beautiful, but so heartbreaking. I am glad you were there to shelter and care for him, and that he will continue to be well cared for now, bit my heart aches for you.
He was a fortunate little boy to have had you for a mommy. I pray his new family will love him as you did – unconditionally and with great joy.
I cannot quite figure out how I feel. Surprised our Little Milker is gone. Thankful for his time in your life and for the fleeting moment in mine. Grieving for you in having to let him go. Hopeful (and honestly, scared) for his family of origin. Trusting that somehow his departure is one tiny chess move in an infinite Divine strategy for good. All of the above.