• Sandy Green


The other night, Avi did something he hasn’t done in a long time - he fell asleep in my arms. Since we went through the sleep training process almost six months ago, this is a rare occurrence. As I finished singing to him, rocking back and forth in our rocking chair with his head on my shoulder, I could feel that he had fallen asleep. “Let’s stay here just a little longer,” I said to him in the dark, “Just a little longer.” I drank in the moment. The smell of his freshly bathed skin. The feeling of his curls on my cheek. The weight of his little body against mine. The sound of his breath, deep and peaceful. I thought of those long ago days when I prayed for him to fall asleep anywhere but on my chest. And I thought about the irony of motherhood.

We long for them to sleep, but miss them when they do.

We revel in each milestone, but wish them to stay little just a bit longer.

We can’t wait for a night away, but feel guilt when we leave.

We beg for them to sleep through the night, but wake up panicked when they finally do.

We pray for them to fall asleep on their own, but long for them to stay in our arms.

Let’s stay here just a little longer, my sweet boy. Just a little longer.