It took me by surprise, but I completely adore the baby phase. I love the helpless perfection that is a baby. I had zero experience and was completely petrified when The Princess came home with us. My goal was just to keep her alive each day that we spent together, just the two of us. But, the immersion into our tiny little world meant that I watched every moment, cataloged each phase and cuddled and squeezed as much as my heart desired, because I could. After the first three months we emerged from our little cocoon as I headed back to work. But still, we were almost inseparable.
It’s not the same with Sweetpea. She’s growing up fast; too fast. I miss moments and my brain doesn’t hold onto the memories as tightly. I forget to write things down because I’m distracted by the calls for help with ballgowns and sandals and spelling of words. I sing to her before she goes to bed but then I’m out the door to attend the rest of the needs; content in the knowledge that she will drift to sleep peacefully but with a twinge of regret knowing that I most likely won’t make it back in to peek on her until right before I go to bed myself.
She’s not neglected; far from it. I kiss those cheeks until they’re raw and I know that she has three teeth out but the fourth is still millimeters from breaking through. But she’s more independent; sturdier, hardier, more self reliant. Because she gets to share her life with an older sister who adores her but needs love too. And those are good words, strong words, words that will grow with her. But I adore her too and want that to permeate her soul, to soften and offer grace to all of that independence.
And she’s my last baby. I don’t want more but I do want more of her.