Usually FOH falls asleep on The Boob.

It’s so easy that way. No trauma and drama of tears or any of that baby b.s. to deal with. Just straight boob and straight to sleep.

Beautiful.

Well. Tonight was a rare exception. He pushed The Boob away and rolled off The Boppy.

Done. Finito. Crap.

So I did the next logical thing. Put him down in the crib. And People. It was tear city.

He let out a wail that is typically reserved for falling down or slamming into something — in short, the cry used when he’s physically hurt or in pain.

I took a deep breath, turned away and went for the door.

Except I couldn’t do it. I just couldn’t leave him there like that. In that state. Not if there was something I could do to help it.

I turned around, went back to the crib and his little arms lifted up and his little mumbly baby voice saying, between heavy sobs, mmaaammmaaaa.

I picked him up and we sat down in the rocking chair. He settled in right away, curling his legs up in my lap, his head snuggling into my shoulder.

I wrapped my arms around him, and we rocked. I sang. I hummed. I’ve never been one for carrying a tune. Don’t get me wrong, I love to try to think I can bust out with the best of them via radio backup {Cough, Cough Taylor Swift} but no one in their right mind would want to hear me individually go through an entire refrain.

However. There is something that happens when you have a baby. I suddenly sing now all the time. I come up with crazy ass songs on the spot or turn any phrase into a song. It’s all further encouraged from FOH, who thinks I’m a huge hit and absolutely hilarious as I try to spit a rhyme a la Jay-Z.

The other day I actually made up a song to the tune of, Can I get A.

Can I get a ma-ma-ma-tel when all you babies giving me half  of your doo and even worse if I didn’t have no boob would you still want me?

I was damn proud of that, too, People. FOH even tapped out the rhythm beat with his foot at one point. A sure sign he has a future career as the next M&M.

I tell ya, the things you start doing when you birth a human.

The thing you do the most though?

Love.

You love and love and love and when you think you’ve exhausted all your love reserves, you discover you haven’t come even remotely close to hitting bottom.

You’ve only just begun.

And so you’ll rock. You’ll rock and rock and rock till that tiny little perfect body falls asleep. And then you’ll reluctantly get up. You don’t want to.

You want to take all the time now while you can, because soon — too soon — the rocking will be a distant memory

As you lay that sweet baby back down, there will be another wave of love. Swelling up from somewhere dormant and deep inside you.

You’ll know then that Love has never been so true, so pure and fierce as it is with your child.

That anything you thought you knew before about Love … it was just a teeny tiny training ground, and that is okay because nothing could have prepared you anyway.

Nothing and no one could ever have explained to you just how big and terrifying and beautiful it is to love like this.

And to know this loving and giving and receiving what Love is … has only just begun.