I would like to imagine most parents can sympathize with the internal tug-of-war that occurs after the baby has fallen asleep on your chest.
You either enjoy the ride and watch them peacefully give up and settle into the snooze, or you exhaust yourself creatively through forty pacifying maneuvers to seemingly little avail until they randomly give in.
Naptime for the last 4 years has generally been the most productive chunk of my day, and on this day as I fought for the baby to fall asleep, all the while I felt pretty antsy to play piano.
I don't remember how long it took to get her calm, but I was distracted the whole effort with wanting to be somewhere else.
She's asleep, I'm sure of it. As I watch her breathe, she's snuggled against me sideways, and that tense feeling of a cord pulling me from my midsection to somewhere else is tangible. I'm about to get up when I hear
Mama, lay down a little longer.
I do think it was Holy Spirit, because it felt like a command more than a whine.
And I did obey, and as I settled back down to hold her and study her little features some more, her hand moved out to touch my cheek.
The refrain wrote itself while I stayed, and yes I did end up playing the piano afterward, with a much more grateful heart.
Mama, lay down a little longer.
Let me touch your face.
This time tomorrow
I'll be a little stronger. After today
There'll be one less day to carry me.
You can listen to a demo of "One Less Day" here.