All of You (Month Eleven)

We celebrated 11-months on the beach!

Mercy,

The worst part about your birthday approaching is every day I think I'm doing my best to soak up every precious, simple moment — but when I lay my head to rest at night I still find myself wistfully thinking about the hours with you that just slipped through my fingers. I can't tell you how often I pour my heart out in grateful prayer for you. You are my sunshine. You bring me every joy. I have always wanted to be a mom, but becoming your mom has lived up to every expectation I ever had for motherhood.



I wish I could bottle up all the tender experiences from this first year and relive them when my heart aches the most to hang on to my precious baby. I want to remember forever your glee upon conquering a new task, when you wrinkle your nose out of protest, how you come looking for me when you can't see me, how you insist on periodic cuddle sessions throughout the day — and sometimes in the middle of the night, how much fun you think your dad is and how I'm chopped liver once he's home.

I want to always remember you batting at my lips, nearly pushing me off the bed when we sleep next to each other because you're nuzzling in as close as possible, how you dance when you hear music, the quiver of your bottom lip when you're upset, your tenacity when you are frustrated, and the way you holler at someone when you feel like they are intruding on your personal space. I never want to forget you splashing in the tub, heartbreaking tears rolling down your chubby cheeks, your happy chatter in the morning, or all your tiny details — lashes so long they get tangled and bent, those expressive blue eyes even strangers notice, your pouty lips, the dainty neck and those silly, swirling cowlicks.

All of you. I want to remember every last beautiful and frustrating part of you because all of you is what I love. All of you is what I'll love forever.

Always,
Mama