In these small, still moments

In these small, still moments, I feel perfect peace. David’s goodbye kiss still on my lips, the gentle click as he closes our bedroom door, the sound of his footsteps fading down the hall.

The only noise now is the small in and out sound as Payson breathes, the most soothing sound I've ever heard.

Our bedroom is soft and dim, the morning sun hidden behind curtains. Payson sleeps curled against me, trusting and content, his warmth the most wonderful sensation. Im tired, but afraid to close my eyes. I don't want to fall back asleep and miss his babyness.

I brush his velvety hair with my fingers, trying to find a way to remember every detail, grateful for these times when he is still. If I separate my body from his, he chirps anxiously, eyes closed, head moving right and left until he finds me again. He wants to sleep tummy to tummy. He wants to feel the rise and fall of each breath as we breathe together. He is without language, yet I understand him perfectly.

As he sleeps against my side, my heart is overwhelmed. The barest, most primal expression of love-- he wants to be close.

In these still, small moments, I've never been loved so loudly.