The “look”

Sometimes the tears come when I’m not expecting them. Sometimes I am not even close to tears and then all of a sudden the flood gates open.

Tonight as I was rocking Christopher to sleep it happened. I was happy. I was snuggling my boy close to me and kissing his sweet cheeks. As I held my almost three year old and listened to his lullaby music my eyes started to fill with tears. I didn’t mean for it to happen. I wasn’t even sad or thinking of anything in particular but as the tears started to flow my mind took me to places….took me to places I tried not to think about.

I recalled a phone conversation with my aunt talking about her granddaughter starting to clap and I tried not to think about the fact she’s years younger than him. I remember watching our son struggle to sit in a supported chair as his head bobbled back and forth. I think back to our morning as I watched kids run up the aisle at church as he sat next to me in his medical stroller. I remember his big brother asking me why his little brother is “staying a baby?” and telling me there is no way he is almost three since he doesn’t talk.

As my body started to heave with sobs something happened. My sweet little boy lifted his hand and touched my cheek. His soft little fingers started stroking my face and he lifted his head and gave me “the look.” His look that says everything all at one time. His look that says thank you, I love you, you’re enough, we’re okay, and don’t cry for me all in one glance. He dropped his head on my other shoulder and continued to hold my face as my tears rolled down my cheeks.

This. This is not what I pictured. Holding my baby boy, listening to the whirr of his feeding pump with his formula bag hanging from his crib, and going over the week ahead of appointments. Worry, frustration, grief, and more worry. But then I stopped. I stopped thinking and I just enjoyed. I felt his small, determined, courageous hand on my face as we rocked and I stopped. My body calmed down and I wiped the tears away and instead of recalling our day I envisioned his “look.” He has always known. He has always had the ability to stop me in my tracks and make sure I know…make sure I know we’re okay. He may be nonverbal but his look speaks volumes.

His innocent face that says it all.

You’re enough. I adore you. Thank you. Stop overthinking. Just enjoy. You’re okay. We’re okay…and yes, I love you too.