This is my last little baby. His every first is my every last first. Last first smile, last first steps, last first birthday….

I struggled with this issue while spiraling into a deep postpartum depression. I would attempt to approach the days with joy and every momentous occasion would bring a smile and then tears. While I was very fortunate to have had strong support from a few close friends and family there was never a magic hug or conversation that made everything all smiles again. As my hormones began to sort themselves out and we approached the 18 month mark, I noticed that the depression was replaced with feelings of poignancy and true moments of sweet desires to keep him little forever. graffiti-7graffiti-10

So now I continue to document his days to help hold on to the memories of his chubby little hands, his sweet little smile, that one little baby tooth that never came in, and the way that he brings such unbridled joy to my every day.

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He is fast approaching his third birthday when he will get his first haircut ever. I know now to grant myself the grace to cry just a little over the last vestiges of his time as my baby because I know that no matter what age he is – he will always be my baby.