I can hardly believe I’m writing this with my baby boy just shy of eight months old. They weren’t kidding when they said, “Don’t blink.” Somehow, the days have flown by—and yet, each one has been filled with a thousand little moments I want to hold onto forever.
Watching Bleu grow has been one of the sweetest, most sacred seasons of my life. He’s gone from a tiny, helpless newborn to this curious little explorer with two teeth peeking through on the bottom and two more on the way. He’s trying to crawl, and his determination makes me laugh and tear up all at once.
My father-in-law says it best: Bleu wakes up each morning and loads his pockets with thousands of smiles—and then spends the whole day handing them out. He is pure joy.
What I didn’t expect was how fiercely I would love him... and how quickly that love would be tangled up with fear. Fear that I’ll mess it up. That I’m not enough. The mom guilt sneaks in when I least expect it. But even in the messy, imperfect moments, I remind myself: I’m doing what I can—and I’m doing it well.
More than anything, I want to be a mother who loves unconditionally. I want to teach my son to love boldly, to walk in kindness, and to live with courage rooted in who God says he is—not who the world says he isn’t. I want him to grow up not just hearing me talk about Jesus, but seeing me walk with Him daily. I want my faith to be something he feels, not just something he hears about.
This journey is hard. It’s messy, beautiful, exhausting, and holy. But choosing joy—every single day—makes even the darkest moments feel a little lighter. And with Jake and Bleu by my side, I’m learning that joy isn’t just a feeling. It’s a choice, and it’s one I’ll keep making.
As I look ahead to the coming months—the first steps, first words, the everyday firsts that will continue to shape us both—I’m holding onto grace. Grace for myself, grace for the process, and grace for the days that don’t go as planned.
Motherhood is stretching me in ways I never imagined, but it’s also filling me with a love I didn’t know was possible. And through it all, I’m learning that I don’t have to be perfect—I just have to be present, prayerful, and willing to grow.
So here’s to the late nights, the belly laughs, the tears, and the thousands of smiles packed into Bleu’s tiny pockets. I’m soaking it all in… even when it’s hard. Especially when it’s hard.
Because this? This is holy work. And it’s the greatest joy of my life.