My oldest is now 11.  Eleven years old.  My little boy.  He doesn’t invite friends over to play anymore.  He asks if they want to come over and hang out.  I can’t tell you how many times a sweet older woman has stopped me in a store, and told me that my children are beautiful and to cherish every minute because the time goes by so quickly.  Those ladies were so right.

Eleven years ago, this weekend, I was sitting in my child birth class. I was pregnant with my first baby. At the beginning of class, the instructor went around the room and asked each of us how we were feeling. When it was my turn, my response was that I was feeling “done”. There was a little laughter in the room because I was four weeks away from my due date.

As we were driving home from child birth class, I remember telling my husband that I didn’t know what it felt like to be at the very end of pregnancy.  I had never had a baby before.  But, I told him that I just felt like the pregnancy was at the end.  Done.  I made him stop at the drug store on the way home and I bought some of those disposable pads they use on hospital beds.  I had a fear of my water breaking in bed and then having to replace the mattress.  I went home and put the disposable pad on my bed, went to bed that night, and my water broke.  Just like I said,  “I’m done.”  My baby boy came four weeks early, which was a good thing because he was over 7 pounds. 

Happy Birthday to my big 11 year old!