I used to scoop him up at 5 a.m. every morning when he cried for me.
Half-asleep, I’d carry him into my bed, press him against my chest, and just breathe him in. I’d kiss his forehead, watch the rise and fall of his tiny chest, and savor the stillness of those early hours.
And then, one morning… he slept through the night. No more 5 a.m. snuggles. He didn’t need me in the same way anymore.
I used to hold him for every nap, too. All afternoon, he’d sleep on me because he needed my scent. But I longed for him to nap in his crib. And then one day, he did.
And I forgot how quickly it all changes.
How fast newborn clothes get packed away.
How fast that reflex smile becomes a real one.
How feedings turn into finger foods.
How midnight rocking turns into a full night’s sleep.
I didn’t realize the last time would be the last time.
I used to crave rest, independence, space. And now? I find myself missing the very things I once wished away.
So today, I’m reminding myself: savor what’s here. The baby giggles. The clingy naps. The beautiful, difficult mess of it all.
Because life isn’t meant to be perfect. It’s meant to be lived — right here, right now.
And one day, we’ll look back and realize the hard parts were never really the hard parts at all. They were the beautiful ones. 💛
[Messy Footprints]