He turned me away

For 1,156 nights, I have "done bedtime" with Lincoln.  There have been a few nights when Jeremie tried to put him to bed-or even that Lincoln requested him, but I always ended up taking over.  For the past several months, that mostly meant getting him ready and sitting in the rocker until he'd drifted off to dreamland. Some nights he'd ask me to rock him. Some nights he'd fall asleep quickly; other nights would entail a lot more-stories, counting, singing, reciting the alphabet, naming everybody we know who's already in bed, talking about what we're gonna do tomorrow. But every night, I've been there when his eyes closed.  Until tonight.

It was later than usual, but we still picked all of the toys up and put them back in their places before prepping for bed.  I changed his clothes and gave him his allergy medicine.  Then I tucked him in and went to fix his oil diffuser (he thinks he can't sleep without it), then came back to his room and took my usual seat.  He immediately started whining.  I thought he was upset because I had moved one of his stuffed animals to sit down.  Thinking of just put it in the "wrong" place, I moved it.  That's by it.  He kept whining.  I asked him again what was wrong, but my heart wasn't prepared for the words he spoke; "No Mommy sit down."  He didn't want me to stay.  

I quickly realized that on all of those nights I thought I longed for this day-when he could go to sleep without me-I was wrong.  I don't feel freed.  I don't feel lucky to be going to bed a good half hour earlier.  I don't have a million things to fill in the time.  I miss my baby.

Now, if I could just get him to use the potty...