Choo-choo and I were cuddling on our rocking chair the other night. Because my shirt straps were hurting his ear, he asked to put his blanket over my shoulder. So there we were, rocking in the glider, and I swear it felt almost just like it did nearly three years ago. Back when I rocked him after he nursed, with a blanket on my shoulder, praying he wouldn’t puke on me.
I have avoided thoughts of Choo-choo as an infant. Those memories usually trigger me into a panic of some kind, often with tears. Sometimes with trembling or shallow breathing.
This is just so not fair. I mean, seriously. I want to be able to look back on my son’s baby years with joy in my heart instead of joy mixed with anxiety.
Especially with his birthday around the corner, more and more memories of baby Choo-choo have been flooding my mind. And you know what? I haven’t felt nearly as much anxiety as I expected to. Some day I might even be able to put his baby books together(!).