9 months old.

No picture yet, I have it but haven't edited it. Lazy.
Liam is 9 months old. He has five teeth. He can sit up on his own. He can pull himself up to standing in his crib. He babbles all the time. It makes me so happy and it breaks my heart.
I have always wanted to be a mother. More than anything. I had gotten so afraid that I couldn't have a baby. I can't put into words how I felt when I found out I was pregnant. How full of joy and happiness I was throughout my pregnancy.
How absolutely terrified I was at all of my high risk prenatal appointments. And how my heart nearly stopped when they told me that my tumor had to come out and so did he, 6 weeks early.
But everything was perfect. I held my 4lb 11 oz, perfect, healthy little boy 12 hours after they cut him out of me.
He has grown so fast. I know that's how all mothers feel... But wow.
Where is my tiny boy? His tiny cry is gone. His toothless smile...gone. Forever. The days where I can pick him up, hold him to my chest and dance with him to soothe him... Those are fleeting too.
Of course I'm going to enjoy every minute. Try not to be consumed with the future and what it will inevitably bring.
I feel like I blinked, and it was all gone. Nearly a year.
Then 2.
Then 5.
Then 10.
Then 16.
Aaaack!
I don't mean for this to sound negative. Every single day I hold him and well up with tears just thinking about how much I love this little person. I had no idea it was possible to feel so full of love and compassion that you feel like your heart will rip open.
It's nice.
And now he's trying to eat paper. That's Mom's cue.