I rocked my baby to sleep tonight. It’s not what you think. You see, I often rock sis to sleep. Rather, sis falls asleep in the rocker with me, most nights, in a milk-induced coma. You know how it goes.

I treasure every single moment I have with that precious girl sleeping in my arms. I know all too well that the deep sighs, the soft breaths, limp limbs sprawled across my body will not be something that I get to enjoy forever. Oh, I know this too well.

That is actually the very reason that tonight is such a gift. You see, while I often rock “the boop” to sleep, it’s rare that I get to rock with her big brother. He’s two now, you know! Those days have mostly passed.

I’ve learned to get my “snuggle” on with him in the 20 or so minutes that we get before bed, when he’ll crawl up on to my lap (although it’s often Daddy’s lap) and read. Then pray. Sometimes sing. For those 20 minutes I get to put my face close to his, smell his clean hair, talk, always laugh, and cherish a memory or two, or ten. When we put him him in bed, he is usually still bouncing. Literally.

Tonight was a gift. After putting him in bed, I ended up checking on him after I heard him through the monitor. “Rock me, mama.” You couldn’t pay me not to.

I love documenting my memories with photos, but often my most cherished moments are ones that I cannot capture with my own lens. I find myself praying, “Now, Lord. Press the shutter button now!” Click! And I imagine God capturing a photo of a memory I want to retain forever.

Tonight, in my mind, I composed images I wished for God to capture. Brady’s legs are so long now! As he curled up on his side we could barely both fit in the chair. He tucked one leg over my hip as the other fell through my legs. His arms were up around my neck. His head fell right in the middle of my chest. I could reach up around his body to rub his little back. Click.

I sang with him. “I love you Lord, and I lift my voice.” Brady whispered “thank you” prayers. Click.

As his breathing got slower…louder…his limbs got heavy. Then his eyes began to slowly close. When his black, feathery lashes lay against his face, my mom-heart just melts. Oh, those lashes! Thick bunches of two-year-old preciousness gathered at points on his cheek. Click. Click. Click.

I held him tight, and I let him lay for a good half hour. I prayed over him. I listened to his little goose-like snores. I laid my face against his slightly sweaty forehead, and I noticed how the hair on the side of his head was barely damp. Click.

I thought for a long time about how I was going to stand up without waking him. I mourned having to put him down, knowing that this precious moment may not return for a long, long time. He didn’t wake when I put him in bed. He rolled over, grabbed his blanket, and nuzzled his face deep within it. Click.

My heart is so full. Each minute I spent with him in that chair showered me with blessings that I cannot possibly deserve. I am so blessed.

I can only wish that God keeps these “pictures” for me, and pray I get to see them one day.