Tuesday, October 11, 2011
Tonight you fall asleep with your head on my belly. It's not often at this age I get to feel your warm head on my body the way it was so often when you were a baby. But you took a late nap yesterday and couldn't fall asleep until almost 11 pm. As a result, you were so tired today and all I had to do was sit beside you on your bed for a minute. You come and lay on me looking straight into my eyes, also the way a newborn does, and you never do anymore when you're more awake. "Audrey, look at me," I am always having to tell you now. But I caress your hair and you look straight at me until your eyes close tonight. I am programmed to think, "Yes, this is my time!" and cautiously place you back on your bed and head out. But I sit back and stare at you for a little longer. I even put my fingers under your nose and feel your breath- the way we both did when you were an infant and we were constantly worried about SIDS. This is the breath of life, I think. And she is part of you Dan. I think that more lately. Sometimes when she hugs me really tightly, tears stream down my cheeks because I get more that she is part of you and you are part of her. For some reason, I didn't get that before. Maybe it was too much for me. She was just Audrey. But now I feel like you've truly left me a part of yourself. Someone with your eyelashes and eyes, and skin and fingernails. It is an awe-inspiring thought when I really get this. Miraculous. She is, I think, like a snow globe of our life and love. There we are in miniature floating around, encased though, so I just can't touch us. But she is also so much more than that.