In an instant...

My "baby" will be turning 13 in a couple weeks. It has gone by so quickly.

I can remember finding out about him and how scared I was. (I wasn't married to his father and had just turned 21 years old).

Then I remember feeling like every single person around me was unhappy and that regardless of the circumstances I was going to be a mom and I had a little person depending on me.

When I went through all the health scares with him and thought I might lose him and it was decided to deliver him early...

When he was finally born after such a long, long day and so many scares...

When they handed me a little 4 pound bundle and he was the smallest thing I had ever seen but he had these little gray eyes that were wide open...

When I knew it was just me and him on our own and that I would do anything I could to protect and keep him from hurt...

When he went around telling EVERYBODY that "My Mommy and My John and me...we're all going to get married and live together."

Telling him he was going to be a big brother for the first time. "Really? I wanted a puppy!"

Watching him look at Josh for the first time, "He's a keeper, Mom."

Telling him he was going to be a big brother for the second time. "Are you serious, Mom? A BABY? Aren't you too old for that?"

He is my firstborn, strong willed, smart as a whip, addicted to the History Channel, girl crazy, handsome, blue eyed boy that drives me up the wall some times but breaks my heart with pride at other times.

And he'll be 13 soon. And I'm not ready for that.