On the eve of his first birthday . . .

As our little one's first birthday quickly approaches I am left feeling a myriad of emotions. Time truly is a thief, but it is also such a gift. Watching my son grow over the past year has been a wonderful experience. From lifting his head on his own, to hearing him laugh for the first time, rolling over, crawling, standing, cruising the furniture, the clapping of hands, waving goodbye. His babbles . . . the "mamas", the "dadas" and the "babas". And I swear he said "bunny" once when he looked at Olive after I repeated "bunny, bah-bah-bunny" three times. Watching him place balls into baskets, taking the wooden rings off of his stacking toy, being mesmerized by watching his dada play guitar, removing his dinosaur magnets with ease, watching him hug his stuffed animals. The way he dances to music, reaches out to me to pick him up and give him a kiss, the way he turns the pages of a book while he softly babbles to himself. The way he holds his bunny lovey's ear every night while I hold him as he slowly falls asleep. The way he smiles, his laugh, and how he wants to snuggle whenever he isn't feeling well. The way he says my name, the way he's made me a mama.

All of it has been incredible and no matter how many times I tried to slow down, to cherish every single moment - to never forget - as those months passed, time managed to make so many moments a little hazier. Those precious memories faded by the creation of yet another beautiful moment that I never, ever want to forget. Time is such a fickle thing.

And somehow I've managed to hold it all together today even though over the past year I have come to tears at the thought of him growing up many, many times. But tonight, on the eve of his birthday, I haven't shed a single tear. Perhaps I'm in denial he's not really one until after 12pm tomorrow because that's when he was born. I have time . . . I still have time. Please tell me that I do. I have to have more time. But I don't. Time truly is a thief because my darling boy is no longer a teeny, tiny newborn that would sleep on my chest all day and all night long while I so tenderly held him with my nose resting against his soft head, inhaling his sweet scent. I'm out of time because tomorrow he is one. And no matter how hard I try, he is growing up right before my very eyes.