I came across this article in the Huff Post Parent called The Last Time by Devon Corneal. It was so beautifully written, I just had to share an excerpt from it.
I just now understand that in anticipating my son’s “firsts,” I’ve forgotten to appreciate what he’s left behind.
I don’t remember the last day that Little Dude’s eyes were blue before they turned green. I can’t recall the last time his hair was baby soft and curly, or the last time he crawled or took a real nap. I can’t pinpoint the last time we shared the peaceful quiet of a 3 a.m. feeding, or he squealed with joy to be riding his wooden rocking horse. There will be a hundred last times to come. And I won’t know they’ve passed until there is no hope of recapturing them. I know this because I don’t remember the last day he used a pacifier or waited for us to get him from his bed rather than clomping into our bedroom at some ungodly pre-dawn hour exuberant and ready to face the day as we struggle to open our eyes. I’ve forgotten when he stopped liking sweet potatoes or saying “Pick mine up!”
Here’s to reading this full post without crying – I dare you .
