8

I've been thinking about this particular post for a long while, because he's almost 8. Him. The one who was the first to call me mommy. I remember being pregnant with him and thinking it would never end. Ever. And then he was born and I just knew that I would never again sleep. Ever. It used to feel weird to not hold him, or at least be in the same room as he was. My head knew how silly that was, that I didn't need to be that attached to him, that he would be ok if I couldn't see him at all times. But my heart was a little harder to convince. I'm still working on it. I don't know if it will ever quite understand or agree with my head. Ever.

This picture couldn't be more perfect for showing how I feel. The time goes by too fast. I feel like I'm a spectator on the edge of his amazing life. Watching him learn and grow and discover every day. Watching him make mistakes and triumphs every single day. It feels like there has been so little time between his first breath to now. By the time he's actually 8, it will have been pretty close to 3,000 days that he's been here with me. 3,000! Where did they all go?