I won't make a big political statement about co-sleeping. For this family, it sort of just happened. With every intention to Ferberize the children on the very best crib mattress available atop the finest organic cotton sheets and with early-childhood-development knicknacks placed pedologically perfectly...yeah, well, this nursing mom and her babes would conk out and, pretty soon, it's years later and I wake up and there are still little legs and arms hiding in the folds of the big feather duvet. While my girl starts out the night in her own bed, often, by early morning, I barely notice that she has nestled up in the crook of my arm. I'm not certain where mothering stops and smothering starts, but I will admit that I treasure the moments when I feel her heavy, slow breath on my shoulder.
She turned nine years old today. I doubt that she will sneak into the crook of my sleeping arm much longer. I still see my infant in the curve of her eye, but more and more, I am recognizing a young lady in the corner of her smile. I hope we are doing the best we can for her. I want to do the things that will make joy and adventure and love and health and friendship and creativity and discovery and wonder part of her everyday. Today, it was a new dress for her. Thank you, baby girl, for inspiring this new dress for you. It was a joy to make it for you.
It has been such an honor and pleasure being your mom.