There will come a day when he takes his last nap as a 1-year-old. He’ll snuggle into his favorite spot, and it’ll feel a lot like every other afternoon rest. To him.
But not to mama.
Because mama can tell he’s getting a little heavier. His arms are reaching a little wider. And he’s taking up so much more space in her heart. More than ever before.
And mama remembers.
She knows the changes this time of year brings. She remembers feeling him before seeing him face to face. She remembers the deep breathing and the pushing and the prayers for God to steady her then.
And she asks God to steady her now.
And to remind her how good growth is. Because right now feels so good, too.
And to keep on keeping him safe.
Her child will be sleeping. Calm. At peace.
And mama will be savoring. And reminiscing. In awe.
Because she knows Who knit this child together. And she trusts Who will carry him when she no longer can.
And mama and child both hold each other up.
They both dream.
They both know how comfortable love feels.
And although neither one can adequately describe the significance of this moment in the rush of passing time, they’ll both look back and know—they were held.
It’s a gift to each of us.
To be held.
Slow down, mama.
Hold on, mama.
And don’t forget how good this feels.
This post originally appeared on Mommys15Minutes by Jaclyn Warren