It’s a magical moment, one that melts not just your soul, but also your entire body. When it happens, any stress kept caged up inside a mother’s body seems to evaporate. What was primary, is secondary. What was a distraction, becomes a focus.

I’ve heard mothers speak of this phenomenon, but I was always unsure as to whether I would actually experience it and when I did step into this phase of motherhood, how would I react? Would I just smile at Davey? Would the wave of love travel throughout my body crashing upon the shores of euphoria and awaken feelings inside of me I never knew existed? Would I cry? Would I laugh? Or worse, would it not even register with me?

Here’s the kicker, though, you never know when it’s going happen. It’s not something that can be planned or staged. This is real life, not a Lifetime movie special chock full of enough drama to make you vomit. You can’t exactly prepare for it and react the way you want as if on que from a director. Basically, you don’t know what state of mind you’ll be in on the day it happens.

Last night, as I fed Davey, I watched his eyes open and close. His eyelashes were long and flowing reminding me of the wings of a butterfly. He has this one little indentation on his head that has just started being covered with new hair. I like to place my thumb on that little crater and then rub my hand over his fuzz ball head. These are all little intricacies I take advantage of when feeding my child, regardless as to whether it’s night or day. All of these make me happy and put me at peace.

When he pulled away from me last night, taking a brief respite from his feeding, he smiled up at me. This was nothing unusual, as I get the occasional smile from him during every feeding. But when he took a deep breath and latched back on, that’s when it happened. That’s when everything in my life was magically altered at least for that brief moment. Every bad thing from the day, every scar, every wound, was completely healed and forever deleted from memory.

What happened? My son opened his hand and reached high up to my face and placed his palm on my cheek. It took my breath away and I’m convinced my heart skipped a beat or two. It was as if my son were saying to me, “let it all go, mommy. Life is good.” And with that, I was so overcome with emotions that I couldn’t help but cry. It was my son’s way of telling me, “I’m ok, you’re ok, we’re all ok.” It’s like he knew that I had spent days beating myself up for being sick and feeling like I was a failure of a mom.

Sometimes I underestimate the intuitive nature of my son. I can’t possibly know how his brain functions and I have to admit that I’ve had doubts as to his abilities to comprehend such things at a young age. Last night’s touch proved me wrong and it was such a magical, exciting event I’ve continuously replayed it over and over in my head trying to revisit the calming effect it gave me.

Last night our roles were reversed. My son became the giver and his mother the receiver.