I married at 20, had my firstborn at 21, my second at almost 25 and now my babies are 39 and 36 with babies of their own, ages 11, almost 11, almost 10 and 6.

I’ve watched my husband grow from a young man to an older man and I’m sure he’s noticed I’ve gotten older, wider and grayer too.

I don’t regret one sleepless night with a sick baby, the worries over our son when he got sick at four months and we nearly lost him, the agony of seeing him attacked by a dog and pulling through it. The “Mommy?” “What, honey?” “I ub you.” made it all worthwhile.

Weren’t they just born last week? Didn’t they just start school? I turned around and now they are grown with children of their own and it only gives my heart more room for love.

Thank you for this post.