She's growing up.
It's a bitter sweet feeling that I really didn't anticipate. Each day my heart finds itself conflicted. I long for her to be my little baby. I've loved that she needs me and depends on me. Loved that there are certain things only I can offer her. And yet I want her to learn, grow and be who God intended her to be. It's amazing watching her take in the world and try new things. I just didn't realize how hard it would be to let go of basinets and binkys.
Our nightly ritual of nursing before bedtime is becoming more and more difficult. She wants to nurse but seems to think she's too big to be cradled or hold still long enough to accomplish anything. It feels like this is the last piece of her babyhood I have and it's slipping through my fingers. She's really more of a toddler these days. Talking and walking almost more than she crawls.
Nobody warns you that once you figure out the whole being-the-mother-of-a-baby thing you'll have to let your baby keep going. No one said, "Hey, just a heads up, it's gonna be hard to let her grow out of babyhood." I know even better things are ahead for both of us, but I sure loved that skinny little baby.
So here I stand at the cross-roads of babies and toddlers wondering where time has gone. Hoping she won't be a teenager tomorrow and getting married in two weeks. Wishing she'd slow down just a little so I can catch my breath. Praying I'll be at peace when I nurse her for the last time. And fighting back tears just thinking about it.