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Judah is 7 months young, still little and so big.

I kiss his cheeks, his neck, his round belly, I rub his soft baby skin and try to memorize the size of his tiny fingers and toes. I stare into his eyes and hope that he is memorizing me, his mama, the one who gave birth to him and holds him every day and nurses him every night before bed.

I hope he can see the love in my eyes, and know that I will never leave him, or stop loving him no matter what he does... I hope he grows up to remember our moments together and cherish them and know how treasured he is, and how much joy he brings to my life.

He is the baby who makes me want to have a million babies, he is the boy who made me a mother, turned me from careless girl to caring, careful woman.

I know that Judah will be a man before I can blink. I know that one day, I will wake up, and he will have grown a beard and muscles and I will look up at him in wonder.

So, when I think, should I carry him or put him in the stroller, should I force the schedule or let him linger and nurse as long as he likes, and should I hurry up and go or stay in this moment, and miss the church announcements, the answer is always, carry him, hold him, snuggle and love on him as much and as long as he will let me.

After all, soon he will be grown, up and gone away, chasing dreams and adventures. I hope I can give him as much love as he can take in, and I pray for God to fill in the gaps that my imperfect love will leave. My prayer for Judah is that he will be full of love, full of life, full of truth.