I opened your door this morning and there you were, standing in your crib.
A smile crossed my face when our eyes met because I could tell you were so proud! But I have to tell you a secret-my heart sank a little.
No, you are not my tiny baby anymore, although you are not even a year old yet.
You have a huge personality, bulging at the seams of your tiny body. Eager to do everything on your own, wanting to get into everything that you are already aware you aren’t supposed to, and refusing to be fed with anything but your own little hands.
You are outgoing. I hope you never lose your love for people. Anyone who makes eye contact with you is infected with your precious smile. There is not a single person that you will not beam your tiny, pearly whites to and I hope nothing ever changes that for you.
You are affectionate. You will crawl after me, crying from room to room some days because all you want is to be near to me. You wrap your arms around my leg while I wash dishes and bury your little face into my feet. You bang on your daddy’s recliner when he is working, flashing your “love eyes” in an effort to be picked up. And he always picks you up. Your finger isn’t even longer than an inch and you have him wrapped around it.
Yesterday you waved for the first time. Today is the first time you clapped. You fell asleep in my arms today after lunch and for the first time I felt incredibly hesitant to put you down for your nap. I kissed your forehead and wished that I could freeze that moment and remember it forever. I wish I could remember how soft your baby hair is and your little baby smell. I wish I could forever remember what it feels like to hold you when you fall asleep like you did today. You are my baby. You are a testimony to me that the days go slow but the years fly by quicker than I can imagine.
It’s heartbreaking when you know you can’t keep something. I cannot bottle up my memories and keep them forever. They fade so quickly. I try to remember Ana or Mason, but it’s like trying to grab the wind. It feels like it is a word on the tip of my tongue that I cannot quite get out. All I can conjure up are images that come and go nearly as quickly as I blink. Sometimes I find it cruel that we as humans cannot retain all the vivid details of our experiences. We have pictures and videos of nearly everything, but those moments-the ones that fill your heart-the ones that are so small and quick, you almost miss them-the ones that make you realize what your purpose in life is-you can’t physically capture them. Everything we do is just an effort to try so that we don’t forget.
On a day far too soon, you won’t crawl after me. I won’t be covered in your darling little boogers because you will no longer cry for me to pick you up. You won’t smile at me when you’ve figured out how to stand because you will be running around trying to find your next conquest. You will be too big to fall asleep in my arms and much too big to carry up the stairs.
But today, you are my baby and with every fiber of my mind and body I will try to freeze these moments.