My last little baby is days away from exiting baby-dom. She is rounding the corner to an actual age, one-year old, and it’s hurting me. It has gone too fast, this first year. Faster than my time with Brady ever went.
With Brady I felt like time was standing still. Although I was keenly aware of how fleeting the days were, I never felt like time was passing me by. I felt like each moment was savored, so savored infact, that I was always eager for the next stage to come. I was anxious for him to walk, be more independent, want space away from his mom and even though I wanted those things, I was always reluctant to let them happen.
With Paityn, life has been much different. I had two babies to attend to instead of one and a full-time job outside of the house, leaving me just a few hours each day to really soak in this baby girl. To be prepared for her to grow up. C’est la vie.
The culmination of ordering her very first birthday invitations, PMS-ing, and having this song pop-up on pandora was enough to push my emotions over the edge and open the flood of tears that surrounds our children growing up.
She’s it for me. My last baby. Not that it necessarily makes me sad that I won’t have any more children, because I really think two is my limit, but I’m not ready to give it up yet. I’m not ready to give up my little baby.
I need just a little more time.
Liz is a just a mom trying to keep it real about how little she sleeps, how often she gets puked on and how much she loves them. You can find her here every day writing about real-mom moments.