I was playing with Matthew today and had my camera by me, as always, so I can take some pictures of how he plays now. Sitting up and in full control of himself. No more wobbling, no more pillow around him to steady himself. Just him on the floor. Reaching for toys and knocking down block towers as quickly as I could build them.
I took a picture of him and the instant I saw it I stopped in my tracks. He didn't look like a baby anymore. He looked like a little boy sitting there. It's made me contemplate so much since then. Where has all the time gone since he was born? Have I done my best to raise him right? Cuddled him enough? Read him enough stories? Done the right things? Am I a good mommy to him?
When he was first born and I was still in the hospital after we would send him back to the nursery I remember feeling the overwhelming urge to just run away. I questioned what the heck we had done and wondered if we were capable of the responsibility that comes with raising a child. Every morning in the light of day when I would see his face everything was fine again. And I hated that I ever even had those thoughts. Those post-partum hormones really do wreak havoc on your psyche.
Now I can't imagine ever living without him. He is my whole world and has healed my heart in ways he will never understand.
But the time is going fast. And he's quickly going from baby to little boy. And while a huge part of me is excited to see all the developments that are coming up a little part of me mourns the little baby that is leaving me.