It's Friday - time for our weekly trip down blog memory lane!
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still fits
{Originally posted February 24, 2007}
I carried him in this very sling for hours upon hours of every day of his new life six years ago. He slept in it, nursed in it, shed tears in it, and laughed in it. And even as he grew, and started to crawl, then walk, run, skip, and eventually cartwheel...it's always been a place of refuge for him - however brief the visit to it might be. The snug little spot that it is - either in the sling or out, where he puts his head right next to my heart and I can see in his eyes that he knows he is loved, cared for and safe. And I have a moment of peace, pride and confidence -however brief it may be - that I know that I'm doing my job well. And that everything is exactly as it should be.
I can (and do) pop a baby in this sling in seconds even in the middle of a sleep - it feels so second nature. Knowing just where the little hands and fingers will lay along my side, where the seam of the sling fits on their body - it's all etched in my mind. And it's etched in my body - etched in the way that one shoulder and arm is so much stronger, and bigger, than the other from always carrying on that side. The way my hip bones have surely shifted to accommodate this. The same way that one breast is larger than the other from more frequent nursing. Long after there is no baby in my sling, or on my hip, or at my side, I'll still have these reminders. And my greatest parenting hope is that my babies will have them too. That as they leave my breast, my sling, my hip, and our home, they'll remember it. They'll remember it with thier bodies in a way that they never doubt, and in way that they no longer need me for, and in a way that forever brings them peace and comfort. They'll remember that they are loved so very completely.
A Note Today:
Feeling a little sentimental about my big, tall, independent nine year old this week, I was happy to stumble upon this post in my archives today. Long after our little ones have outgrown the literal sling, I still find it a helpful and appropriate metaphor for what we all need sometimes. The comfort and security of loving arms - no matter how big those little ones may now be.
