Two years ago we moved into this rental home. And my 18-month-old son played in his new backyard.
About a year ago he was two-and-a-half. And he became a big brother. He was still in diapers.
This morning I took my three-year-old’s picture while he ate breakfast in his underwear.
When I was pregnant with him, I scoured message boards. I read blogs. I read books. I folded new laundry and put together toys and a stroller and his crib.
But nothing prepared me for the searing ache of falling, falling falling through time.
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