The heart of a mother is a deep abyss at the bottom of which you will always find forgiveness.

When I held you in my arms for the very first time,



 I thought I could never love you more. . . . 



but then you grew.





 


In those precious baby times-- through your first smile, 



your first tooth, your first steps,



 I thought I could never love you more. . .



but then you grew.





 


And in those sweet toddler times-- the endless days of curiosity



and adventures and discoveries,  



I thought I could never love you more. . .



but then you grew.





 


And in those wonderful little girl/boy times-- those days of hurt knees and hurt feelings, 



of making friends and taking in the world around you, 



I thought I could never love you more. . . 



but then you grew.





 


And in those lovely young woman/man times-- those times of moods



and mysteries, and joys and heartaches,



 I thought I could never love you more. . . 



but again, you grew.





 


And still, always, day by day, 



you keep growing. . . 



more and more beautiful/handsome. . .



nearer and dearer to my heart.