Henry has been asleep in the baby crib for 30 minutes already. The house is quiet for his morning nap.
I crack open the bedroom door, just wide enough to gaze at his 9-month-old body, all curled up in a ball.
I watch silently at the door.
Henry is Jenna’s son, my baby’s baby. But shouldn’t it still be Jenna, my little girl, in that same crib? It was only days ago, wasn’t it?
I do the math. It’s actually been over 9,000 days since Jenna last slept in the crib.
Life never stands still. Each day brings change. Change. Change. The changes never stop coming, day after day after day.
I remember peeking in to watch Jenna sleep, too, when she was a baby. And Morgan before her.
But this morning as I babysit my grandson, I catch my breath for a split second as I realize what I’m doing: I’m watching for Henry’s little chest to heave up and down, just a smidgen, as assurance of his breathing on my watch, just as I used to watch my own little girls when they were sleeping babies.
Whew. Henry takes another breath. Of course he does.
I close the door. I take another breath, too.
I feel reassured.
Maybe some things don’t change after all.
Did you watch your babies breathing, too? Share in the comments.
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