Attie at 9 months old has my eyes.

He cries, sees me, lunges and I grab him. Happy to snuggle him deep inside the curved part under my chin and sing Jesus Loves Me. He calms right down. He’s still.

My heart gets loud as I remember his kicks in utero and now we are equal time out of the womb as in. He’s growing up faster than his brothers.

2 weeks ago I was crying that something might be wrong with his weight gain. He hadn’t taken to solids and I was unsure if my body was meeting his needs completely. And then, 2 weeks later, he’s skipped baby food all together and is eating cheese chunks like a 2 year old. And chicken and liver with bone broth. And gnawing on beef jerky.

How quickly I go from rolling along to fear in the moment that my world is not alright. This more often reveals I was on my super secret mission to work God out of a job. Exposed. Oh how I need Him. Oh how my children need Him.

Forgive me Lord for rolling along.

He has my eyes. Will he reflect me or Jesus through those eyes?

I pray, dear Atticus that you reflect repentance through those eyes.

Jesus loves you. I will remind you one day of the comfort those words brought you.

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