Happy Mother's Day

Some of you may have noticed that I don't make a habit of posting tons of pictures of Declan. This isn't because I don't take them, or even that I don't think to, but because every time I see something I want to capture and share, I'm a little disappointed when I look at the picture staring back up at me.

The number of times I see something in Declan that I want to capture-- to freeze and pocket and hold onto forever-- is not quantifiable. From the moment he was born, I've been trying to let other people see what I see when I look at my son; but I've given up.

Because I'm his Mommy, and it's the best thing I've ever been.  Because I'm his Mommy, and I think that means I get a window into the stolen precious moments God weaved into him before birth.

I don't post pictures of the way his hair curls around his ears when it's humid out, because you won't see it like I do.  I don't post pictures of the way he tilts his whole head back when he smiles.

I can't post a picture of the elated look of relief he gives me when I pick him up from the church nursery, or the way he bounces up and down in his crib when I walk into his room.

A video won't let you hear his laugh like I hear it-- so intense sometimes that he actually cries and has to stop to catch his breath.

You'll never get to see understanding dawn in his eyes when he learns something new. Not like I do.

Because I'm his Mommy, and it's the best thing I've ever been.

Part of me delights in this-- is happy that these things are all mine.  But a bigger part of me panics when I realize time doesn't stop for these moments-- time doesn't stop for anything.

And I know my memory will not go untouched or untainted by time's grip. And that one day these things won't be vivid in my mind like they are today. That one day he'll give that flirty grin to the woman he'll marry, and that the hand he reaches for when he's scared won't be mine.

So when I take a picture, almost greedy, almost hoping I can just keep one of these moments, I'm always disappointed.

And I don't even try anymore, because it's time wasted-- time I won't get back.

I can't hold onto these things anymore than I can hold onto water with my bare hands; but I can drink as deeply as I can while the moments still linger.

Happy Mother's Day to all you Moms who know what I'm talking about.