PYHO: letting go of the baby

As of 120 this morning, my baby girl is a year and a half old.

hehe that 6 month pic cracks me up every time!

She’s become such a big girl in no time at all.

I’m so grateful to be her mama, to be such an imperative part of her growth and development, to be her rock and shoulder, to be her stepping stone…  She’s my everything after all.

It’s funny because I’ve always done my best to savor every moment with this little Chiquita banana. I cried the first time I felt her kick inside me, I cried the first time she really smiled at me… the first time she rolled over… the first time she sat up by herself for more than 4 seconds.  I cried because I was so happy and so proud, and, because I was a little sad, too, because that “first time” was no more.

I’ve loved everything about this journey so far and with each new development that comes our way, I become more in love and more proud of my girl- but also a bit more hesitant at what’s to come because it’s happening so incredibly fast.

I remember when the thought of her walking came to head. She wasn’t even 8 months old and pulling herself up to stand, and the next thing I knew she was letting go of what she was holding onto and just standing there and taking a step here or there; I thought for sure she’d be walking by 10 months and it saddened me. Of course I was incredibly proud of my sweet baby, but … She was growing sooo fast. And no matter how I tried to savor every single moment, I did have to sleep and shut down on occasion.  I know there are things I missed. And soon she’d be walking and then running and then what?

Well, Lovie didn’t actually start walking till closer to her11 month day. And I was sooo proud. I was proud when she took one step, then three, then six, but when she started her drunken sailor walk and put the crawling behind her?? I became uber proud. I wanted to shout from the rooftops how proud I was!

And all the sadness I felt from thinking my baby doll was growing too fast was overcome by so much warmth and even more love for this little girl. How that’s possible- to love her more every single day than the last- I don’t know. I will never understand how that’s possible because I love her more than anyone has ever loved anyone else. Ever. You hear?

Yet tomorrow I bet I love her more.

And now at a year a half old, my Lovie is nothing shy of awesome. She's such a character and makes us laugh nearly every single day. She talks and communicates with us so well. She’s a great eater and even showing signs of empathy when she plays with her baby dolls.

But once again I’m left feeling a little sad.

She’s one and a half now.  Soon she’ll be two and talking in complete sentences. Soon she’ll be potty trained (PT).

The thought of PT brings me to tears. Literally. Not because I’m afraid of cleaning up the accidents (though I definitely am not looking forward to this at all), but because to me it’s like the last phase of babyhood.

Gone are the bottles, gone are the purees, gone is the immobility, gone is the cooing baby. The only thing I have left are those damn diapers.

Of course it will be wonderful when they’re gone- the diapers. I mean, who likes to wipe a shitty, stinky (deargod the stink!) ass? But… but… will the closeness that we share when her diaper gets changed be gone too? When we look into each other’s eyes for a minute or two? When I tickle her feet and blow raspberries on her tummy? When I make funny sounds and faces because of the death that envelopes her bottom and diaper? Will all that be gone too?

I know that new fantastic times will come with every new development, milestone, and change, but it’s just hard for this old momma to let go of the baby sometimes.  I just gotta keep on reminding myself that she’ll always be my Lovie, my baby doll… even when she’s changing someone else’s diapers (hopefully not mine).