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Watching You Sleep

Rebecca sitting, watching her baby sleep on her lapRebecca McCormick, Fairfax City, Virginia

I’m watching you sleep, my baby. I spend so much of my day doing this. It’s basically my full-time job right now as you approach seven weeks old.

I watch your expressions. I see your brows furrow in a look of worry. What do you have to worry about? I wonder.

Since you were born, you do a thing where you half smile. It lasts a fraction of a second, but it transforms your face. In that moment, I see the playful toddler that you will be. I see the mischievous teenager.

My heart aches and tears come to my eyes, because I know this will feel like a blip in the timeline of our lives. Soon, you will be a stubborn five-year-old declaring that I’m not the boss of you. You will drift away into the arms of friends and perhaps make a family of your own. Your time will be filled with important and pointless things.

But for now, I hold you. I smell your smell, and I listen to your noises.

And I watch you sleep.


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