It is sometime after half past six on a Thursday evening.
I am sitting in the armchair in our bedroom.
Lewis is lying on a pillow on my lap, and I am feeding him. It is his bedtime bottle.
Even though the blind is pulled down, I can tell it is still bright outside by the soft grey light that fills the room.
I look down at my little boy, and I can hardly believe how big he is already.
My little baby.
My last baby.
Growing up so quickly.
Our eyes connect, and we both grin at each other.
In the next room, I can hear Rick begin a “five brothers” story.
When Lewis finishes drinking, I put down the bottle and sit him up.
I draw him close to me, and breathe him in.
I kiss the top of his head, his nose, and his cheeks. He smiles and closes his eyes when he knows I’m about to kiss him.
Our bond is strong and unwavering.
I love him with every beat of my heart, and with every cell in my body.
I stand up, letting the pillow fall to the ground.
I carry him over to the mirror, and we play a quick game of peekaboo.
“Where’s mummy? Here I am! Where’s Lewis? There you are!”
He grins and chuckles and laughs.
Oh, my heart.
I carry him over to his cot, give him a final kiss, and lay him carefully on the mattress.
I open up the window some more, and I pop his dummy into his mouth.
“Goodnight, my darling Lewis. I love you very much. Sleep well…”
He smiles up at me, and I smile back.
“Love you so much,” I whisper.
And with that, I touch his face and walk away…