Tomorrow David will turn seven. Seven. It sounds so old yet still so young. It seems nearly impossible that the little baby I held in my arms and stared at in both wonder and fright is turning seven. I can remember when the doctor held him up at his birth just staring at him and thinking how big he looked. A whopping 8 pounds 14 ounces seemed so big at the time. How I wish I could go back and hold him one last time at that size knowing what I know now, having the motherhood experience I have now. But I can't. I was so scared, so uncertain, so insecure. I had no idea what to do with him. We did not bond instantly like some mothers brag about. It took me months to get to know him and to know what to do for him. Months to know how to make him happy. Months to get used to his crying. Months to slip into the role of mother. I look back now on all the mistakes I have made over the years and hope that he won't remember. Like the time I left him alone in the bathtub for literally two seconds to go and throw a stinky diaper out the back door because I just couldn't stand to smell it any longer. I returned to find him face first on the tile bathroom floor, nose bloodied and screaming. I freaked out. How could I do that? I knew better than to leave him even for one second. Just a mistake. A simple mistake. The doctor laughed and reassured me when I told him the story as he was checking the nose for a break. "They are made of rubber at this age. No need to worry." I know he will not remember these small things, but I will. Especially the day he had cried all day - I mean ALL DAY - and I couldn't do anything for him. So I remembered hearing that you could turn the vacuum on in the child's room and it would calm them. And it worked. When Scott came home that night, he found me outside on the back porch, and the vacuum cleaner running in David's room. And of course the night I had been up with David all night. He wouldn't lay down, he wouldn't take a bottle, he wouldn't take a pacifier. I had to call my mom at three in the morning to come over because I just didn't know what to do. In some ways, David has been my little experiment - finding out what works, what doesn't work. Settling into the life of a mom. Coming into my own at the same time. Learning so much about myself through him. Wanting so much for such a little person. Doing things and feeling things I never dreamed were possible. What an amazing gift he has been to me. He talks too much, he annoys me, he hits his sister and fights over insignificant things. But he laughs all day, he is sharp as a tack, he has the tenderest of hearts, and he is truly a blessing from God. And he is turning seven.