The baby in my arms...

There's so much to talk about, so, so much I could fill this blog with. We just went on a glorious trip up to Maine that was as close to Heaven as I could've asked for. Paxton starts school again Monday which brings it's own challenges and rewards. We're settling in on plans for our next adoption. I have a couple birthdays to plan, school activities for which to prepare, and so much to buy and make and do.

And yet...

See, there's a baby in my arms.

A big, big baby. 11 months in a week. Turning a year in 5 weeks.

He's crawling at the speed of light, into everything, walking holding only one of my hands, and saying things like "Diddit!" and "donedone!" He's learning and growing and interacting and really shaping up to be a fun toddler.

And yet...

He's still a baby.

A tiny, tiny human being.

And he's in my arms, head against my shoulder, tiny mouth open and tiny (okay, huuuuge) brown eyes sealed shut. His breath is even. His arms are limp. His legs are folded under him on the boppy. Every now and then he jerks, as if to wake, but then relaxes yet again, resting into me.

And I know... I know because we've done this before. I know because it used to be his older brother asleep on my chest. I know because he's starting to recognize his bed. I know...

This won't last much longer.

Oh, sure, I might still have a year or two of him snoozing in my arms.

Or this might, literally, be it. The last time does come so quickly.

Such innocence fades, such trust gets pushed aside. Before I know it he'll be sleeping in a bed by himself, not needing me. And, truly, that WILL be a good day. No more holding him as he flails and screams, no more silence for hours, no more typing with one hand.

And yet...

There's a baby in my arms.

His calm, steady breathing cleans my soul.

His warmth and weight sooth my heart.

His trust, his innocence, his purity all inspire me.

He is, at this moment, pure and unadulterated love.

So excuse me as I push aside my duties, excuse me as I forget the lines I meant to write here. Excuse me as I stumble over words as my mind is cleared by the near silence of the room, only interrupted by the clack of the keyboard, the hum of the computer, and his mesmerizing sleepy breathing.

Excuse me world, I have a baby to hold, and even though we've been through this moment a hundred times over and will likely go through it a hundred times more, I will savor it. I will steal kisses, sniff skin and nuzzle soft, downy hair. And I will love him, for all that he is, in this moment while he still fits on my lap, is still light enough to be held by one arm.

Because I know that all to soon, this moment will end.

And, oh, how I will miss this!