A letter I just couldn't NOT write tonight

Dear Weston,
Tonight, for the first time in a long time, when you were finished with your bottle, your eyes were closed, and you turned inward to me. You scooted in such a way that you ended up vertical, your soft warm cheeks nestled onto my shoulder. Despite it being winter, I was wearing a tank top as I got hot cleaning up the kitchen earlier. So your skin was touching my skin. And I had a rueful regret that might sound odd at first. I thought, "Awww, poor baby. I'm sure this isn't very comfortable."

Because you were in fact resting the bone of your cheek and temple on my clavicle. I don't have much padding anywhere in that vicinity. But you didn't seem to mind. And as quickly as the thought passed through me, it was replaced with tears because I was overwhelmed with the thought that you really don't mind that I am not a mound of softness, or that I don't have a full chest to couch your body. And from there I thought how you also don't mind that I'm not wearing makeup. Or that I have stains from where I spilled yogurt earlier on my sweatpants. Or that I'm wearing sweatpants. You don't mind that I hummed YOU ARE MY SUNSHINE for what is possibly the millionth time in the past 11 months, because it's my go-to lullaby when my lyrical arsenal runs dry. And if I actually sing it, and don't hit one note correctly  you don't mind that one bit either. You also don't mind that if you had opened your eyes from where you were perched to look up at me, you'd have seen me looking down at you, from an angle that is incredibly unflattering on even we skinny mamas.

No, Roo. You don't mind any of that. In fact, you most likely love it all.

I am your source of comfort and your favorite warm pillow, no matter how uncushy I am. I have a face that is beloved from any angle because it is the first one you saw and really took in, and the same one that lights up your own face when you see me come get you at daycare. My voice soothes you because it is familiar, and unique to your ever-listening ears. And no matter my garb for the day, you aren't judging anything but how fast I can get you more toast, how many silly faces or sounds I can create to make you giggle, or how good it feels to cuddle into my lap.

And the reason I know all this, the reason I know you love me for who I am, is because I, like you, am a lucky one. I have a mom who was and still is a steadfast beacon of comfort. Certain smells send me back to being in her lap, or holding her hands as I made the light from her diamond ring dance on the church pew, or feeling her calming touch on my cheeks when they were hot from crying.

Certain songs make me think of all the times she sang to us on our swing out back, or in the car on the way to Grandma and Grandpa's, or before bed when she tucked us in so perfectly. And thinking about her,  I think how that everything she was and is to me... I am and will be to you. That sort of epiphany has come more than once over this journey of almost a year, but tonight, it hit me really hard, and on a physical level. Because I know these moments are dwindling down...these moments when you fit this well, when you WANT to be held tightly and nuzzled, when our warmth from our bodies touching is the perfect degree of coziness.

There will never be enough nights like tonight.

But please know that no matter how old you are, no matter who is watching or how tough your day was, my lap is ALWAYS open, along with my arms, and my bony chest. Anytime you crave a hug from mama, or mom or whatever you end up calling me, come right to me. I guarantee I am craving it more.

And no matter who steals your heart someday... please know that I had it first. And that honor is something that I will forever hold so very proudly, protectively and gently in that of my own.