My last baby is running now, and he’s not slowing down.
I blinked, and now that same precious babe I first saw wiggling around on the ultrasound screen is now picking out his own shoes and socks, and he’s racing me to the minivan.
He’s outgrown the onesies.
And he’s outgrown the bibs.
And he’s just about outgrown his crib.
And I’m not ready.
I’m dragging my feet.
I’m holding onto him as long as I can.
I’m taking all the pictures and all the videos and adding storage to my phone to save them.
I’m doing all the things I possibly can to enjoy who he is now. And who I am now. Because I know time is sprinting right on by. And we’re changing.
And I’m just not ready.
I’m not ready to say goodbye to his diapers. And his itty bitty clothes. And his high chair at the end of the kitchen table.
But I have to remember—he is.
He’s got more life to look forward to. And I’ve got more of life to watch and cheer on and enjoy, too.
More milestones to celebrate.
More lessons to learn.
More adventures to travel.
More love to give.
More saying hello to who he is becoming. I pray so often for the man he is becoming.
And I can keep all the memories and all the giggles and kisses and cuddles in my heart. And thank God for giving me all the feels.
Even when it’s time to say the hard goodbyes.