Momma’s Boy

Bo has been crying on and off tonight…  Scott and I were downstairs watching “Avatar” (I’m astounded by it’s amazing cinematography and sheer allegorical creativity, though not as much as I’m shocked, that we found almost three hours to stay awake at the same time sit down and watch a movie), and we heard him on the monitor.

I don’t like hearing PJ cry, or seeing Scott stressed or hurt; but it is absolutely heart-wrenching for me to watch Bo in any sort of discomfort.  I’m sure that this is all stemming from the “Momma Bear” mentality that I’ve developed in the past two-plus years, but it’s more than that with him.  He’s been through so much; I just can’t bear to allow him one more second of pain, or fear, or distress if I can help it.  More than that, he is so patient, and easygoing, and accepting of all that he endures, that when he does cry, I know he’s really unhappy.  It just kills me.

I think tonight’s waterworks were a result of the teeth he’s cutting, but the fact that this is a normal milestone he’s approaching means nothing to me.  We gave him Tylenol when he first cried out at 8:30, and I went up and rocked him for a little while.  At 9:19, we heard him again and I told Scott that we should go up and get him.  Scott said we should wait a few minutes, and of course he stopped crying about a minute later.  This sound of silence is usually music to any parent’s ears, and it is to mine as well – except tonight.  I found myself feeling disappointed that an opportunity to cuddle his warm little body against mine was somehow missed.

You see, Bo doesn’t just lay on his back cradled into my arms – he does the most delicious thing I could ask for.  He turns his body 90 degrees, so that rather than looking up at me, he is looking in to me.  That’s exactly what I think he’s doing.  He’s somehow looking into me, with his face cuddled into the nook in my elbow as his right arm tucks in underneath mine, and his precious little thumb on his left hand finds its way into his rosebud mouth.  And then, to top it all off, he smiles at me with that tiny little thumb still in his mouth.  I melt.

How could my heart not break when I hear those little cries?  How can I not want to fly up those steps and scoop him up into my arms to comfort him?  Is it a “mommy thing”?  Is it because of everything he goes through?  I don’t know…  Sometimes I think it’s just Bo being Bo.  I think he might just be the one thing that actually convinces me that “you’re never given more than you can handle”.  My little boy has been given so, so much – so much more than I would ever be able to handle, and I look at him, and I know — he can handle it.  He handles it every day – with grace, with patience, with smiles, with a motivation to fight and succeed like I’ve never seen before.

That right arm that he tucks under mine when I’m holding him close – well, this week he started raising it up while squeezing his little fingers open and closed to say “hi” and “bye”  to people.  His right arm.  The left would be so much easier for him, but he chooses his right.  That really says it all…

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