Slowly, gently, the quacking of ducks draws me from sleep. I raise up, through misty mists of dreams and swaying contentment, toward the dawn of a new day with you, my sweet son.
This is your fourth day home, and yet it seems as though you have always been here. You have become such an integral part of my life, that I cannot imagine it without you.
You lay contentedly upon my chest, your little heart beating against mine, tiny fists curled, silken hair caressing my chin. Bending to kiss the top of your head, I again breathe in your beautiful baby smell, your Chris smell…my baby…my son.
Slowly, dreamily, I realize that I have fallen asleep after your last feeding. I like to sit on the family room couch, facing the lake, during these sweet moments: our mother/son time, when I hold you, feed you, examine your little hands, feet, ears. Sitting, curled up against a huge pillow, with you cradled in my arms in a sitting position, nursing contentedly, I admire my little boy. Raising you to my shoulder, and pressing your downy cheek to mine, I burp you and then return you to an upright position, cuddling you in my arms. Turning my gaze toward the dawning day, I lean back in pure bliss…savoring...savoring…and then slowly, drifting off into a sweet, contented sleep.
The light begins to swell and fill the frame of the sliding door leading to our back deck…to our lake. The sky begins to change color. I can tell that today is going to be another beautiful day – Dogwood Pink and Daffodil Yellow…a glorious day…my first Mother’s Day!
This is your fourth day home, and yet it seems as though you have always been here. You have become such an integral part of my life, that I cannot imagine it without you.
You lay contentedly upon my chest, your little heart beating against mine, tiny fists curled, silken hair caressing my chin. Bending to kiss the top of your head, I again breathe in your beautiful baby smell, your Chris smell…my baby…my son.
Slowly, dreamily, I realize that I have fallen asleep after your last feeding. I like to sit on the family room couch, facing the lake, during these sweet moments: our mother/son time, when I hold you, feed you, examine your little hands, feet, ears. Sitting, curled up against a huge pillow, with you cradled in my arms in a sitting position, nursing contentedly, I admire my little boy. Raising you to my shoulder, and pressing your downy cheek to mine, I burp you and then return you to an upright position, cuddling you in my arms. Turning my gaze toward the dawning day, I lean back in pure bliss…savoring...savoring…and then slowly, drifting off into a sweet, contented sleep.
The light begins to swell and fill the frame of the sliding door leading to our back deck…to our lake. The sky begins to change color. I can tell that today is going to be another beautiful day – Dogwood Pink and Daffodil Yellow…a glorious day…my first Mother’s Day!
Copyright 2010 Debra Shiveley Welch
Excerpt from Son of My Soul - The Adoption of Christopher
Library of Congress Copyright 2014 Debra Shiveley Welch
