When my 4th child was a baby, I really thought he'd be my last. 4 was the magic number we had decided on even before we got married, and even though I had always expected to have another girl, I was resigned that my family was finally complete. With all the warnings from seasoned parents, the seemingly hundreds of times I heard the phrases, "They grow up so fast!" and, "You'll miss these times," I made sure to savor every smile, every cuddle, every coo. Sometimes I would just hold him close, and breathe it in as though the scent of that moment would lodge the memory more firmly in my soul. I was preparing to be satisfied with only ever holding other people's babies when mine was no longer so little.
What a treat to be wrong! It wasn't my last time, nor was my eldest my last and only daughter. Here I am with another infant princess in my arms, hardly believing how blessed I am to have another chance to breathe it all in. My youngest son is a tall 2 1/2 year old, now, a testimony that yes, they do grow up fast. But I am so grateful for this sweet blessing!
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