Deja Vu?

The other day Linda and I were sitting on the couch with Kai laying on Linda's chest, his head on her heart, facing the window, facing away from me.  He was sleeping, deep sleeping with his torso rising and falling with each big little breath wearing a red onesie.  I put my hand on his warm back and gently began to rub it up and down with long (as long as a tiny baby's torso can be) strokes.  Suddenly my eyes dashed back into my head with the entire world expanding beyond my normal vision.  A certain taste found itself in the back of my mouth and my mouth soon began to water.  
Reading Swann's Way right now I cannot help but think of the famous scene of Proust and the petites madeleines, which upon tasting it, he is overcome by an onslaught of feelings: 

"[it] had immediately rendered the vicissitudes of life unimportant to me, its disasters innocuous, its brevity illusory, acting in the same way that love acts, by filling me with a precious essence: or rather this essence was not merely inside me, it was me.  I had ceased to feel mediocre, contingent, mortal.  Where could it have come to me from--this powerful joy?"  

Unfortunately, unlike Proust, I could not trace this feeling back to a source.  Was I remembering myself as a child, seeing me in my baby boy?  Or was it a visceral feeling of fatherhood?  Either way, two feelings predominated above the rest: Love and Truth.  Love for my son, for all that he is, has been, and will be--a love that, as Proust relates, transcends mortality.  And truth for the unmistakable reality of this moment and the conviction of my own feelings.