10 years ago today at 8:15 a.m. this kid made me a mother for the first time
Delivering him was hard. But even harder was the realization that I was taking this little baby home with no instruction manual.
How could I possibly be equipped to be responsible for such a little life?
It's been 10 years of trial and error.
10 years of crying and praying.
10 years of calling my mother for advice.
10 years of firsts and celebrations and triumphs.
10 years of hoping that I'm getting it right.
Sometimes I don't. But most times I do, and that's only by God's grace.
10 is a hard age. It sits at the intersection of childhood and independence.
10 looks like me standing back and watching as he happily runs off alone to his class after drop offs at school. He no longer wants me to walk him.
10 looks like hours with his nose buried in book.
10 looks like headphones on enjoying his own world.
10 looks like understanding more how the world works and answering real life questions.
10 looks like teaching him to be his own person.
10 looks like taking out the trash but still having to be reminded to do so.
10 looks like letting go more than holding on.
These past 10 years have flown by. Ten more and he'll be an adult.
But for right now I'll cherish these last few days of childhood with my first born.