In these tender moments I marvel at my reality, you here with me.
Now you are my teddy bear, a growling, grinning bundle that fits just so in my arms.
Even so, you are growing, tumbling out of babyhood into more and more boy-ness. You stretch and roll and reach and I cannot contain you as I once did. I cannot hold all of this life, and I was never meant to, but I catch my moments when I can. That crooked smile of contentment, that chubby arm around my neck, that face buried soft in mine. Moments turn into days, and days fly by quick as autumn’s leaves.
The seasons shift and you shape into the boy you will be, the boy with a heart of a bear, and I pray for strength in all this shape-shifting. You will outgrow my arms and one day I may fit in yours, and that is the pain and joy of mothering a son; that is the reality we share.
Know that my arms will always be open and my prayers will always be fierce and my strength will never be enough, but His will be and we will both tumble into that.