Right this very second, I am watching Tim make our baby laugh on the couch.
Our fourth baby is the happiest, calmest, most content baby you’ve ever seen. I always tell people he only cries when he wants to eat, but even that’s not entirely true. He usually just opens his mouth extra wide and looks in my direction.
We’ve dubbed him the best baby in the world and we all dote on him. For the record, I don’t believe in spoiling babies. If he gets gads of attention and is held in welcoming arms, I think he will be all the better for it. Love is one thing that you simply can’t give or get enough of.
Unless God works a miracle, he is our last baby so we approach every one of his firsts with a sort of reverence. We appreciate the finality of it – bittersweet and bold. Like savoring that last piece of decadent cheesecake for breakfast.
Truth be told, we barely mind when he wakes up at night or needs to nurse right at dinnertime. Perspective has taught us that these are days to savor. In a blink and a whisper, he’ll be crawling, then walking, then climbing, then stretching his wings to fly.
I always wondered if I would feel “done” – if that permeance would ever take root in my heart. This baby is the first time I’ve felt it. The knowing. Tim feels it for the first time too.
Four kids is a dream. When we go on walks in the evenings, I look at our little crew of six with wonder. “Here we are,” my heart sings. “This is us.”