I’m gonna hold you a little longer…

It has occurred to me over the last week…and maybe little by little over the last 8 years that I’d better squeeze every, last, dried up drop out of the younger years.  We spend our energy focusing on celebrating every “first” that comes along.  We record their first word…like their college acceptance depends on it.  We write down the dates of their first taste of solid food…their first tooth…their first time to pull up…and their first step like our very worthiness as a mother is at stake.  And that was all before social media came into play.  Now…God bless us…we have photo evidence of it for all of the world to see.  And if the world doesn’t see it…(or 500 of our closest friends)…then we might as well assume it never happened.  But that’s not really the point here.

The point is…

I’ve been thinking a lot about those firsts.

I have another momma’s baby here.  I have her baby in my home.  In my arms.  In my nursery.  In my family.  In my world.  And I’m getting to witness a lot of his firsts.  I took him to his first basketball game.  I gave him his first scoop of ice cream.  I watched him on his first hay-ride and his first time on a swing.  I am hearing his first time to say “momma.”  And I love those firsts.  And I’m recording them for her…or for me…or for whoever else God has to be his forever mommy.  Those firsts are important…and joyous to celebrate.

But what about the lasts?

I’ve been trying to remember the LAST time I picked up my oldest son in my arms.  I’ve tried to recall the last time I pushed him in a swing….or his last little league “at bat”…or the last time he colored me a picture.  When was the last time he climbed in bed with Chad and I because he had a bad dream?  When was the last time he asked me to read to him?  When was the last time I tucked him in or sang him a lullaby?

I can’t remember.  I just can’t remember all of the lasts.

When was the last time I held my son in my arms?

Shouldn’t the lasts be just as important as the firsts???


His first Homecoming date.

I’m fairly certain that her mom and I planned this out when they became friends in Mrs. Holloway’s Kindergarten class.  I’m pretty sure that on the first day of Kindergarten…God smiled…thinking about this image…that seemed so far into the future that we momma’s couldn’t even imagine it.

And we celebrate.  We celebrate the first date.  We make a big deal about the first exchange of Texas sized Homecoming mums.  We take pictures and record it like our very lives are on the line.


And then we tell our babies that we haven’t held them for the last time.  Because…for the love of all humanity…that…


well…that last hasn’t happened yet.


It doesn’t really matter to me that he can pick me up way easier than I can pick him up.  The point is…


I haven’t help my baby for the last time.  And I’m not just paying attention to all my little’s firsts.  I’m slowing down to hold on a little longer…and to not miss their lasts.

Hold your babies, friends.  Hold them a little longer.

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *