Reflections, While We're Waiting...

As we count down the days to baby #2's due date (we're now down to one day left, and still no sign of her...) there is a opportunity to reflect on the changes we've been through over the last two years and the changes that will soon come. In fact, I recently spent a few hours (and then a few more hours, and then a few more...but that's another story) organizing all the videos of Jonah that we've taken, which prompted some reflections.

One thing that stands out to me -- and I'm sure will stand out all the more when baby #2 arrives to provide a point of contrast -- is just how much Jonah has grown up over these two short years. Two years ago, he was just a cute but helpless little grub. Today, he's tripled in weight (think about that!), doubled in size, learned to talk, walk and run, and generally just grown into being a little person.



One of the more notable ways I've experienced this growth has been in the time I spend putting Jonah to bed. I've been fortunate that more often than not I am able to make it home in time to help put Jonah to bed (albeit sometimes at the price of some late nights on the computer at home). Even when he was nursing, we'd do a hand-off where I'd read and Ruth Ann would nurse him to sleep. More recently, the bed time has usually been a daddy thing from end to end.

Being there consistently at bedtime has provided a really basic and interesting way of measuring change. It's simple: I do the same thing at the same time each night. From one night to the next it's hard to notice much difference. But as the nights pile up, one atop another, it's clear that things are shifting. I know what you're saying: "Such is life. What's the big deal?" But -- if we except out the nights when I'm tired and hungry and just want to get the kid to bed so I can get on to whatever's next on life's endless to-do list -- I'd say that the nightly routine of putting Jonah to bed has provided one of those rare experiences (rare for me, anyway) to brush against the profundity that lies underneath the rituals of everyday life.



I'm getting long-winded, I know, but here's a little narrative of how it's gone: When I started out putting Jonah to bed, I'd often have him swaddled in a blanket and laid out across the length of my forearm (imagine that he was no longer than my forearm!) I'd shush him and shake him (gently!) and sing a tuneless version of 'Hush Little Baby.' More recently bedtime evolved into reading a few books, and then turning off the light and rolling him up onto my chest, facing in. He'd snuggle into my chest, place his head on my shoulder, and often fall asleep while I was holding him (again, usually after the aforementioned tuneless singing). As time passed and Jonah grew, he no longer fit so snugly against me -- his little feet would spill out over the edges of my lap and his arms would swing out into space. I'd have to slouch low and lean way back in the chair to create a surface large enough for Jonah to lie against. And eventually he could no longer get comfortable enough in my lap to fall asleep. Sometime he still snuggles against me, melting my heart every time. A lot of the time now, he asks me to sing and then sings right along -- oddly, and thankfully given my limited repertoire, it's almost always 'Hush Little Baby,' which he and I sing together, neither caring that our voices are out of tune. I like to think that's because we're in tune in the ways it really matters.

Since you've read all this way, you might as well enjoy one of those videos I was talking about a while back. It's an oldie -- from summer 2007, I'd guess -- but makes Ruth Ann laugh every time.