This Little Child of Mine

As my 9 month old daughter rests on my chest, sleeping soundly, I stare at her with all the admiration a father might have at that moment in time. The intimate moment caused me to ponder how this small being will one day be a grown up.  One day, Lord willing, she’ll grow to be an adult; a woman, maybe a wife even. Who knows? But one thing is certain she’ll not remain as she is.

We had just got our 9 month old off to sleep; a wholly joint successful effort to settle, soothe and cuddle her into a slumber which was sure to give us and her a restful nights’ sleep. Baby bedtime procedures in our house reveal a schism of approaches in the way this should be executed. My loving wife, in all her maternal ways, is of the school ‘soothe the baby to sleep’. Petting, soft and sonorous words and gentle rocking are just some of the methods. My methodology could not be farther removed. The most fitting expression for my school of doing this would be ‘let the baby wail, bawl and vociferously holler until her minute lungs can no longer sustain such physical exertion. See the difference?

However, during my attempt to set our child down for the night, when defending my bedtime methodology, my wife said something so personally profound it has echoed within my heart ever since. “Soon she won’t be able to fall asleep on your chest anymore. In fact, one day, she won’t want to”. This struck me deeply. The thought of my little girl not wanting to be so close to her daddy anymore sent a pang of longing through my emotions. That one day this little girl, the one whose eyes rolled uncontrollably in those moments she took her first breath outside of water; that the one who had jet black glossy hair, as if freshly dyed and oiled, caused me to stare in wonder will simply grow up.

My wife was utterly right. I must treasure every waking moment she wishes to have me in her life with all the tears and laughter and deep intimacy these moments may bring; for the time will come when she will no longer need me in this way.

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