11 months old

Jack is 11 months old now. I don't believe it, so when someone asks how old is he and I have to say 11 months I feel like I'm telling a small fib. And as I try to decide what to do for his first birthday, I am forced to make sense of the simple fact that his life did not begin with me, how can that be when he is so clearly my son?

He can't be almost one year old, I've only had him for one and half months. There needs to be more time. More time for him to be a baby, to be my baby. But we cannot change the laws of this world, time goes on, just like it always has and my time with him will never begin before his 9th month. I waste no time wanting to change that, wondering what we should have done faster, it was never in my control, that I was sure of. For before I knew his name I prayed that my child, my chosen child would be greatly used by God, that this would all have a purpose, a wonderful purpose. I know that the time line was just as it should have been.

My balance is off, this is not how it was with Kylynn. After six weeks she was still a tiny baby, who nursed all day long and did nothing else but sleep. Can you imagine if after six weeks with your baby you were watching them take first steps and play with toys by themselves, told to wean them from baby food and bottles. He is both six weeks and 11 months old to me and maybe that is why I can't quite decide exactly how my life should look right now.

It will get easier I know, I have the rest of my life to love him and watch him grow, and I am keenly aware (having another child) that those first nine months are no more important than any other nine months and fade sooner than we could have ever imagined into a very faint memory.

So if I pause when you ask Jack's age know that it's not because I've forgotten, but that I need a moment to believe it myself before I can tell it to you.