on motherhood // in the blackness of night

in the early, early morning hours, before bakers start to bake and baristas start to pour, and way, way before dawn starts to peak out from behind the wall of indigo darkness, i sit under our crisp white sheets and nurse our baby boy.  these times of silence and solitude are favorite ones of mine.  they are private moments of bliss that strum the heartstrings of this thankful mother.  while the whole world is sound asleep drifting in and out of dreams, it's just the two of us awake lying there, or so it seems, with newborn skin pressed gently on skin that's been aged in the sun, smelling faintly of lavender lotion.

in the blackness of night time freezes for a bit, and we hold it ever so delicately in the palms our hands as not to damage it in any way.  sometimes i use this precious time to catch up on emails or dabble through a book, and other times i use it to focus on feeling the velvet-like peach fuzz on my baby boy's newborn back, or the silkiness of his dark brown hair.  until six weeks ago, i forgot how soft babies are.  it also managed to slip my mine at how intoxicating their scent is.  that scent that conjures up an instant longing for more sniffs to be had. 

every now and then my sweet boy lets out a sweet suckling noise, telling me he is nowhere near done eating and that mama's milk is just what he needed in that round, growing belly of his.  forever i will cherish the two of us bonded as one in the utter darkness of night, connected in raw beauty, sharing moments of warmth and sweetness together.