I think the clock said 2:10 a.m. but my eyes were blurry from lack of sleep. I had not slept much for many nights. My baby wasn’t fussy, just got his days and nights mixed up and in the dim of the night light you could see his bright eyes wide awake and his hands and feet were moving in the air.
“Okay, little one, let’s get up and let daddy sleep.”
I walked into the family room and bent down to switch on the Christmas tree lights. I sat curled up on the couch nuzzled in blankets cuddling my little boy. I whispered to him and he turned towards the sound. He was still so new.
I caressed his little head and began to sing “Silent Night.”
That is when I felt it.
It was a connective current to all mothers, but one in particular so long ago on that first Christmas night. I knew what she felt.
I knew the discomfort of a belly growing and stretching before a little one comes.
The pains of birth are like no other.
But the joy of birth is fullness hard to describe.
I sang and cuddled my baby close.
Jesus belonged to Mary for just a short while.
Baby’s do that.
They don’t last long.
But tonight it was two mother’s lovin’ on our baby boys.