My baby is 8 today. I guess he's not my baby anymore, but he'll always feel like that. I know everybody says it but I just can't believe how fast the time has gone. When I think about everything that has happened since that day, it definitely feels like it's been a bunch of years, but they flew by in such a blur. I try to think about him being Bryant's age and I can just barely remember bits and pieces.

I'm trying to cherish every moment, I really am. Those days that I'm so frustrated with him I want to scream, I always try to go in his room after he's asleep because I fall in love with him all over again just listening to him breathe. This is one amazing kid God has loaned me, and I am eternally grateful.

This is such a weird age. His teeth are all crooked or falling out. His pants are all ripped at the knees, each and every pair. He is starting to scold me for embarassing him in front of his friends. And yet there are times when I'm reading to him at night that he will throw his arms around me and tell me he loves me so much and I can hear the earnestness in his voice. It's like he's pushing me away with one hand and holding on for dear life with the other. I feel the part of his life that I have control over getting smaller and smaller and it scares me to death.

And yet I know that he has to be free to make mistakes, for learning how to deal with them are what shape us and mold our character. If I could teach him everything from my experience without him having to experience pain, then I would so want to. But would that allow him to grow? Fortunately the choice is not left to me. This is a new phase in trusting God. I know there are many more to come.

Happy birthday, sweet Bradley. Your momma loves you so.