I have a confession to make.

Brooks will be 4 in December and we still rock him to sleep.

Tonight I cried. This baby boy pushed all my buttons today but made me laugh even more. He’s silly and sweet and oh so ornery.

My lap isn’t growing but he is….and it hurts my heart. Rocking him and his wiggles that need to get out each night can be literally painful. Sometimes I lose my cool. “Just stop moving and close your eyes.”

But lately I’ve held him long after he’s asleep knowing soon enough he needs a big boy bed and I won’t be holding him, but instead I’ll be laying next to him.

And he’s the last one, you see.

The last baby to rock.

The last baby to hold as they fall asleep.

So far this has been the hardest part of motherhood for me. Sometimes I don’t even think about it because we’re so busy doing a million things. Maybe that’s God’s way of helping me out and not letting me drown in my sorrows of saying goodbye to the baby phase.

Maybe.

And when he wakes almost every night and needs me and I toss him in bed with us I just think – he’ll only need me for so long.

And I soak it in. Snuggle him in.