a repost: Mindful Moment: My Skin Remembers

{Last night, as I was laying with our little two year old, Little C, in her “big girl bed” (oh yes, she wanted a twin bed like her big brother so we finally made the switch), as Little C nuzzled up next to me and asked me to stay, and I thought, “Ohhhhh the work I have to do,” I was reminded of this post.  I was reminded that I have a choice — to soak up this moment with my daughter or go and do work.  I was reminded of what is most important in that moment — breathing in the sweet smell of my daughter, feeling the warmth of her breath against my cheek, delighting as her little hands explored the contours of my face.  I breathed this poem/post again and was grateful I made a good choice.}

These moments last for such a short while

In the dark stillness of the early morning, before the first glimmers of dawn appear through our bedroom window, Brian brings C. to me for an early morning feeding.

She is half awake half asleep now nuzzled next to me. Her little feet rest on the space between my bare belly and hip as she wraps one arm over my chest and tucks the other under my breast to nurse. I am laying on my side, my left arm stretched out on the bed and the heat from the top of her head warms the inside of my elbow. My right arm wraps around her tiny, plump, six month old body. Our bellies touching rise and fall together in a soft rhythm.

Though my body begs for more sleep, I don’t mind being up so early before the sunlight slowly dances its way into our room. I know now with my second child that this will not last forever. There will come a day when I will long to hold my babies again just like this and my skin will ache with nostalgia.

But this morning, I also know that when that day comes, a smile will rise up from within me as my skin remembers breathing in this very moment.

(see original post from 2010 here.)