Too sweet for words.

Earlier today I hinted enough at Jason that he very kindly took over care of baby Jamie so I could take a nap. Uncle Rob came to visit for awhile, too, so I figured he would have extra help and happily crashed.

A little while later, Jason comes into the room carrying a fussing Jamie and says, "Honey, I'm sorry to bother you, but we've tried everything to console Jamie. We think he misses his mommy."

"You've fed him?" I ask sleepily, as he brings me the baby and sets him next to me on the bed. As Jason answers in the affirmative, Jamie looks at me, his face crumples, and he lets out another wail. I silently wonder if the sight of my face inspires such despair, but cuddle him to me nonetheless. That sad face is a heartbreaker.

"Aww, see, he just needed Mommy," a smiling Jason says, and leaves the room.

After a minute, when Jamie's more calmly cuddling with me, I come to realize that the oh-so-sad face might have been one of those situations where you've had a traumatic time, and then you see someone you love. You're so glad to see them that you throw yourself into their arms, start crying, and in essence say, "You won't believe what they did to me!!"

A few minutes later, I shuffle out into the kitchen, holding Jamie, who is now clutching my shoulder and my shirt and quietly looking around as we walk. One by one, each of my family members (parents and brother) sees him in my arms and makes an exclamation about how he's suddenly fine now that he's with me. They argue my suggestion that he just needed a new face with assertions that they had passed him around between them while I was asleep, trying to calm him, to no avail.

I'm touched to think my little guy missed me so much. I sit down on the couch with him sitting on my stomach, facing me. I hold him in the air, and make faces and noises at him for awhile, smiling big to get him to do the same. For a good half an hour, he looks around a little, but mostly stares happily at me, sometimes smiling, sometimes giggling, sometimes chewing on his fingers. Family members make a couple more comments on how content he suddenly is, and how he "just needed his mama."

I sometimes still experience a painful pang when I remember what it was like to breastfeed him, wishing I still could and wondering if my son won't be properly bonded with me. Maybe it would be stronger if I were able to breastfeed him, but my baby still loves me and we have a special bond nonetheless. He showed me that again tonight.