I’ve been thinking about Brigham a lot lately. About how he is edging toward two-years-old and his baby years are passing us by.
It makes me sad. I’ve been reminiscent of his birth. About how I held him, pink and screaming, in my arms for the very first time. About touching his wrinkled baby skin and listening to him suckle at the breast. It’s so strange to think that it was almost two years ago that these things happened. How have two years passed already?
It’s true what they say about not blinking. He looks like such a big boy now. Full head of wispy blonde hair. Weighing in at over thirty pounds and hard for me to lift and carry.
And the thing that stings the most? He would rather not be rocked to sleep anymore. I always rocked him and sang songs to him. But instead he points to his crib and says, “night-night.” Sadly, I rise from the rocking chair and place him in his crib. Then I sit down next to him, reach my hand through the crib slats and rub his sweaty forehead. Until his eyes grow heavy and all that stands between dreamy sleep is a mama that can’t let go.
Being a mom will always mean saying goodbye to one stage and moving onto another. Soon, I will no longer be a mom to a baby. I’ll be a mom to two big boys. Who both know how to communicate. Who both know how to sleep in a regular bed. Who both know how to use the potty.
This concept is a new world that I’m entering.
But that doesn’t mean I can’t take everything that is still innocent. Everything that is still baby. And place it in my heart forever. I want to remember. I hope God won’t ever let me forget.
Long and plump feet. Leftover baby fat. A tiny hand to hold tight in mine.
I will blink and his hand will be bigger than mine. Someday it will hold a special woman’s hand that doesn’t belong to me.
But I’ve got to try to live this moment. I’ve got to try to love this moment.
Love my baby while he’s still a baby.
linking up with Pour Your Heart Out.