I just finished rocking my baby to sleep, perhaps my most favorite thing to do in the whole world. As she slept in my arms, I sat and gazed at her sweet 8-month-old baby face, trying to memorize every inch because I know that my memory will fade so soon.
Every time I sit and rock her, I try to summon the words to describe the overwhelming feelings that I have for her and for the precious times like these that are gone all too quickly, but adequate words just don’t come.
I want to cling to each moment of her babyhood. I desperately try to keep each stage from passing so fast, but time just keeps marching on.