It's 2 am and you're whimpering again. I stumble into your room with my eyes closed and wrap myself in frustration as I lean over your crib. Why are you awake, baby? What is it now? Your eyes are squeezed shut and your arms a whir of motion. You wail at the sound of me. I slide you into your favorite position against my chest and you snuggle your fuzzy head into my neck. I rest my cheek on your new skin. Before I know it, frustration gives way to the warmth of your tiny body in my arms, the welling up of emotion in my throat, and my heart swells with joy. We rock to the quick of your beating heart. I try to picture you curled up beneath my skin but I know too well that you have grown beyond the reach of my womb. And before long, you'll be too big for me to pick you up and rock to the sound of your heartbeat. So I set my mind to stopping time for this one quiet moment. To remembering every detail of tonight's starry rendezvous. The smell of your skin, the perfect curve of your red lips, the sound of breath through your button nose, the feel of your fingers wrapped around mine. You're sound asleep again, but I'm still holding you. Just one more minute.