I enter the room to find Nik sitting, propped up by the side of the crib. His cries sound the same but his rocking —his punching himself as he seesaws back and forth alternately slamming first his forehead then the back of his head against the crib —is different. In the dim glow of the nightlight, I can see the splash of tears on his cheeks, the dark splotches on the sheet where fat, hot, frantic tears have cascaded down in the darkness.
“Mama’s here, baby. Mama’s here. Shhh, it’s ok, lovey. Mommy’s going to make it better.” My throat constricts as I choke back my own hot tears. He needs my strength right now; there will be time for me to cry later. I quickly unzip the crib tent and lower the side, reaching in to pull his little boy form into my arms. He sits with his back against my chest, the lowered wall of the crib between us. I wrap my arms around him and press my head against his.
His head continues to rock forward and back as if he’s seeking some sort of release or some sensory input that will change whatever uncomfortable sensations he is having. I feel the heaviness of his skull as it thumps against my chest. I whisper soft words to him, hoping they bring him ease. The rocking begins to slow as I gently start to sway side to side with him. He squeezes his delicate hands together —“Help me, Mama,” they say to me. It’s a gesture we’ve recently begun to use when he asks for help during play as well. I am momentarily stunned at his presence of mind and ability to retrieve this particular gesture just now.
“Show Mama what hurts, baby. Let me help you,” I croon softly against his hair. My own fat, hot, anxious tears flow now; I cannot hold them in. He puts my hand on his forehead and presses. Instinctively, I begin to rub back and forth in the same gentle motion I used when he was just a slip of a scrap of a baby in the hospital. I would sit for hours, gently stroking across his forehead —willing him to feel the love and strength in my fingertips. Nik sighs and settles against me, his wiry form relaxing in my embrace, head nodding forward —toward the precipice of sleep.
These are the moments I wish he were a tiny baby again so I could scoop him into my arms and shelter him against my bosom. I’d breathe in the softness of his skin and the gold in his hair. My whole body would drink him in and fill him with healing light and strength. I would rock him into restful ease. Instead, I can only will all those things to flow through my arms and my fingertips, hoping he feels it just the same.
Nik slumps against my arm. As I gently lay him down, he startles; reflexively, he reaches for my hand. “Shh, I’m right here, angel. Mama’s right here. I won’t leave yet, I promise.” He curls his long limbs into a tight little ball —one hand tucked between his knees and the other laying upturned next to his cheek. He accepts my hand into his soft, spindly grasp. My thumb rests against his cheek as he snuffles and begins to settle. I can feel the moment when he slips gently over the edge of consciousness.
His deep, even breaths tell me he is at peace —for now. I gently lift the side of the crib and secure the tent before returning to the warmth of my bed. Settling in next to my slumbering husband, I am unable to go back to sleep right away. One thought keeps echoing in my brain: “He asks so little.”
Just take my hand you don’t have to cry it’ll be alright
I’ll make it alright
Don’t let the world get you down
Reach for the love that’s all around
It’ll be alright baby we’ll make it alright
I’ll pick you up when you’re feeling down
I’ll put your feet back on solid ground
I’ll pick you up and I’ll make you strong
I’ll make you feel like you still belong
Cause it’s alright, yeah it’s alright let me
make it alright, make it alright
Stay with me tonight, stay with me tonight
Sometimes the words well their just not enough
Afraid of feeling and in need of love
To make it alright, baby, I’ll make it alright
Where will you run to where will you hide
I know the pain comes from deep down inside but
it’ll be alright baby we’ll make it alright Baby
Let me make it alright, Make it alright
Let me make it alright, Make it alright
Stay with me tonight, stay with me tonight
It’s alright, yeah it’s alright
It’s alright, yeah it’s alright
It’s alright, Stay with me tonight
I’ll pick you up when you’re feeling down
I’ll put your feet back on solid ground
I’ll pick you up and I’ll make you strong
I’ll make you feel like you still belong
Cause it’s alright, yeah it’s alright let me
make it alright, make it alright
Stay with me tonight, stay with me tonight
It’s alright, yeah it’s alright
It’s alright, yeah it’s alright
It’s alright, Stay with me tonight
It’s alright, yeah it’s alright
It’s alright, yeah it’s alright
It’s alright, Stay with me tonight.
very powerful, and depicts many many nights spent the same way for me…sending you strength and kind thoughts
sally
There just has to be relief for you guys soon. Sending hugs.
beuatiful. heartwrenching, but not in a feeling pity kinda way…in a powerful, amazing kinda way.
“These are the moments I wish he were a tiny baby again so I could scoop him into my arms and shelter him against my bosom.”
These are the moments I relaize what makes me a mom and not just a mother. I still curl up on the recliner with one or both boys snuggled into my chest as I rock and whisper. My priority is that my boys feel safe and loved…everything else comes after that. As I try to make some of the most difficult decisions right now…that is the priority I keep repeating to myself, because that is the foundation they need to grow, to become independent, and to live the lives they choose. I hope my boys know I will always be there. Not that I have to be there as their mother, but I choose to be there as their mom.
Know your words always empower me and your little boy inspires me (plus he’s just so dang cute!).
Asking so little, yet needing you so much…
What a magnificent mama you are.
Sending lots of hugs for you and the little man.
What a poignant picture you paint with your words. Sweet little boy. Thinking of you both often and praying for you.
So little, but it is not easy getting up every night I am sure.
Well worth it though for him.
Your love for your sweet Nik is so strong.
Nik asks for so little but receives so much more than he asks for. There must be an answer for this pain soon, and I have a feeling that as Nik continues to make these leaps forward in communication you will gain some of the information that you need to unlock puzzle. I hope it comes soon.
You are amazing and how you can capture that in words renders me speechless. I hope you and your little one find the comfort and peace you both deserve. Just knowing that those small moments can bring that to you is something to always remember and something I struggle to remember and embrace every day.
I know this is small comfort, but Nik is so incredibly lucky to have you. It’s not just his presence of mind to ask for help–it’s yours to recognize this in the midst of such a difficult time. I am sending you a big hug, and hope you can get to the bottom of this soon.
I settle in like the sentinel I am, keeping the discomfort at bay with the only weapon I have —my unflinching, consuming love for him.
you are a WONDERFUL mother .. with a thousand words, nik could never ask for more
This is heartbreakingly beautiful … and as others have said, you are a wonderful mom and Nik is very lucky to have you.
I’m so sorry. It must be so hard to not be able to just make it better.
Oh, I would bet that he knows. He’s a sharp one.
What a beautiful picture. Thank you for sharing.
this is so beautiful, full of the power of your mother love. i know he feels it. he does ask so little but you give so much and it all seeps in, down down into the center of his soul.
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