I love looking at my children.

I always have.

I remember rocking them, holding them just so I could look at them.

I remember peeking over the edge of their crib, putting my hand on their little backs the way mommas do, staring at their little sleeping faces.

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I remember the face of my children when they came home from school happy.

I remember their faces when someone had hurt them by saying the wrong thing.

I remember all the feelings that found their way into their eyes.

My children are grown now, very grown. They haven’t been little for quite some time, but they will never ever stop being my babies.

I still see what’s on their faces as a new feeling finds its way to their eyes.

I’m not always the one they run to now to fix everything like they once did, but that doesn’t stop me from being their mom.

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I’m grateful for every time I listened to them, glad for every look on their face I committed to memory.

No matter how much your children grow, you don’t outgrow motherhood.

Originally published on the author’s Facebook page