dawn

Anders woke up around 6:20 this morning, which I must say is on the later side of morning for him. As I normally do, I went and picked him up and brought him to our bedroom, put him in the middle of the bed, lay down beside him, put my arm around him and closed my eyes. Of course I wanted to sleep more. I had that groggy, please just let me sleep another hour feeling, and attempted to ignore him for a few minutes. He lay there very still, and I almost thought he had fallen asleep. I didn't know, though, because my eyes were closed. After a few minutes, I opened my eyes to peek at him, and there he was, eyes wide open, staring at me as he sucked on his pacifier. "Hi Mom. What are you doing?" he seemed to be saying. I closed my eyes again and re-opened. There he was, watching me, patiently and with great interest. Those eyes that are so wise and all-knowing. He must know more at five months than I know at 30 years. He was observing me, taking it all in, wondering when I would decide to officially wake up and spend time with him. It's as if he knew I was going to do so, and in the meantime he would just lay there and watch. In the early morning gray light, there he was looking at me with such love, with such openness and honesty, with an innocence and awareness so uncommon in the world. In that calm moment, I didn't want to be anywhere else. Parents are given so much more than they can give. We have such a significant responsibility placed in our hands. Here is this little person, so open to the world and life, and here am I, the giver of the world to him. It is imperative upon me to giveth carefully and with discretion.