My baby is 10.
Wow. It is hard for me even write those words. I will never birth another child, so I will never hold another of my own infants in my arms, and now my baby. is. 10.
Sigh...he is growing into a sensitive, generous, and handsome young man. Not that he hasn't been all of those things over the years--because he has...he is just maturing in all of those areas. He is becoming accountable for his actions, and he is responding better to discipline, and he is recognizing that there are occasional negative reactions to the choices he makes...and he is accepting it. AWESOME.
But then, it reminds me again that he is getting older. He can still jump up on me and I can walk around or work in the kitchen while he holds on, and I love that. I'll keep that going for as long as he (as well as my legs and back) is willing. Last year I posted some pictures of him growing up, so this year, I'll just post pictures of his day--when I get them uploaded!
I adore my Christian. I've cherished being this little man's mother since the moment he breathed his first breath. All the years of holding him, singing to him, rocking him, bathing him, nursing him....amazing. And bittersweet. I knew while I was doing these things with him, that I would not have these moments with another child of my own. I am thrilled with that decision, and I wouldn't have it any other way, but still when my baby turns 10? Makes me reflect on the days of infants and toddlers...I guess we're just that much closer to them bringing infants and toddlers of their own for me to cuddle and snuggle.