Dear Griffin,

You are my last baby. You will be my last child I get to wear. You will be the last child I sleep train. You will be the last baby I potty train. You will be the last I watch walk. The last I introduce solids. The last I get to hold that is mine.

I knew we were done after three but as I hold you, I’m all too aware of the finality of our choice.

I find myself soaking up every newborn moment with you while subsequently missing them.

I hold you tight, fully enjoying you while you’re this little and you need the comfort of my heartbeat. I know I will blink and you will be big like your brothers.

Everyday you and your brothers change. Everyday I grieve those little changes.

I didn’t like the newborn phase before but I do now that you’re my last.

Love,

Mama