all that remains

It had been a long week.  One of the longest; in which I laboured under the false pretense of it being a day later than it actually was.  It had been a good day though; filled with glitter, glue, sugar cookies and dear friends.  I even secretly enjoyed the subtle dusting of glitter that remained on the floors in the aftermath.

We collapsed into bed at our usual time in our usual fashion {rumpled}.  It was when Mike took Poppy downstairs {after weeks of refusing her normal bedtime, it has become a new routine} and I was left alone with Silas.  That is when it happened.  I rolled over and rubbed his back to make sure he was in a deep enough sleep for me to leave him.  All at once I experienced a moment of pure clarity.

A long list of things urged me to go downstairs; the cookies that needed to be baked for Mike’s work potluck; the dirty dishes; the blog I wanted to write; the tidying that needed to be done.  Instead, I lay in bed with his warm breath on my cheek and thought about time stealing him away from me.  I thought about the days he won’t be as eager to snuggle with his Mama.  I thought about how tiny he once was in our bed and how his limbs stretch in every direction now.  I thought about how my heart will ache and swell when he moves into his own bed, or when they ride a bike for the first time, or when they move away, or bring home their first dates.  I thought about what the years will hold for our little family.  I wondered how his little jawline would look as he grows into a young man.  I wondered if her hair would always be curly.  I wondered how these moments would look to us in 20 years.  30 years. I wondered if I would ever get it right.

In that moment, there was love all around me and the room swirled as I wept with both sadness and  gratitude.  It was a good warm cry.  The coarse, sometimes resentful, growth that had grown inside my chest had been sliced open and warmed me from the inside out.  I wept for loss and betrayal.  I  wept for loneliness and misunderstandings.  I wept for words and answers I still seek.

I wept for this love; this heartbreaking, inextinguishable love equal to no other worldly thing.

And all that remained was love and warm breath on my cheek.


It may have been the PMS.

It may have been God.


go gently + be wonderful



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  1. Posted December 19, 2011 at 11:01 am by MacKenzie Mays | Permalink

    Wow, Erin. That was beautiful.

    My mother passed away last year. We were extremely close and her death has certainly taken its toll on me. I think of some of the same things you mentioned in reverse. I wonder if I will be able to remember her laugh and her smell in 10 years. I wonder what her reaction would have been if I were to ever have children of my own. I think about how rotten I was to her as a teenager and I wonder if she forgives me for that. I hope that I can remember the small things that we did together when I was a child. There will be no one else to chronicle them for me (I am the only child and only grandchild). Out of it all, though, I do know how much she loved me. We had a special bond and even if next week I can’t remember what her favorite food was, I know how important her presence was and still is in my life. Mother’s are our foundation to life. They give us everything they have and then give us more. I would give anything to cuddle with my mom again in her bed, even though I’m not that small child anymore. Trust me, Erin, you’ll get it right. And when time snatches your babies childhood away, as it inevitably does, they will know of your heartbreaking, inextinguishable love equal to no other worldly thing. <3

    • Posted December 19, 2011 at 12:16 pm by erin | Permalink

      I am so sorry you know of such loss…thank you for the new perspective on my own words.

  2. Posted December 19, 2011 at 12:32 pm by Linnea | Permalink

    Erin, this is again beautiful. And thank you for making me laugh at the end.

  3. Posted December 19, 2011 at 4:47 pm by Heather | Permalink

    Your writing….amazing…thank you for sharing………

  4. Posted December 19, 2011 at 7:28 pm by Ana | Permalink

    … I remember having moments like that.

    I miss them.

    Thank you for reminding me that such things can still happen, even if not for me right now. Reading your blog has been one of the only beautiful things in my life lately. <3.

  5. Posted December 19, 2011 at 11:16 pm by Wendy | Permalink

    So true….I work some CRAZY hours, so i don”t always get that “quantity” time, my absolute favorite moments are the morning cuddleing in Mama’s bed, before we start our day….that’s the “quality” time that I crave the most!! (and makes the “work job” tolerable)

  6. Posted December 20, 2011 at 5:36 am by Greer | Permalink

    Just beautiful. Thanks for the reminder. xx

  7. Posted December 21, 2011 at 11:45 am by Annette | Permalink

    Erin, this is perfection. I am drinking Christmas Eve tea while feeling the love in these words envelope me and thinking it’s probably more God.

    • Posted December 21, 2011 at 12:02 pm by erin | Permalink

      I agree netty-poo.
      Have I ever told you that is what mike and I affectionately call you in our house?

  8. Posted December 22, 2011 at 11:14 am by Amberlea | Permalink

    I almost wept reading this! What a beautiful moment. I have been so worn out with all the to-dos and list-making and have definitely been failing in enjoying the love and beauty around me… Thank you for the reminder to stop, and actually live and feel my life.

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