The Best a Mother Can Hope For

It's 9:45 P.M and Bo is in his crib right now talking to himself. I diapered and fed him, read him a story, and laid him in his crib. He looked up at me, smiled, then started uttering a series of "oooh oooh oooh"'s. This has become his bedtime routine. As I was was looking down at him I realized that motherhood is a never ending series of gutwrenching decisions. I want with all my heart to pick him up, hold him in my arms and talk back to him. I want to rock him until he falls asleep, then hold him for 20 more minutes and watch him breath, then lay him down ever so gently in the crib and watch him for 20 more minutes. But I know this is counter productive. I'm exhausted and need to sleep, too. He needs to learn to sooth himself to sleep. We both need to find a routine that works for us. I don't want to become a helicopter mom who hovers over my child constantly. I don't want to create a momma's boy who still lives in my basement when he's 30. Ok, so maybe rocking him to sleep every night won't acutally make him a momma's boy, but these are my thoughts. This is just the latest in a series of "what do I do?" moments. In this moment I know that every day for the rest of my life I will wonder at least once a day "Did I do the right thing for my child?" My prayer is that more often than not the answer will be "yes." That's the best a mother can hope.