As a girl I loved the book Where Did the Baby Go? by Shelia
Hayes. It's the story of a little girl who finds a picture in her house of a baby
wearing a hat. She is curious who the baby is because no baby lives there. Her mom gives her
clues about what the baby likes to do, where she plays and sleeps. The
little girl searches all over the house but just cannot find the baby.
Finally her mom gives her one last clue. The baby likes to play
dress-up. Excitedly the girl runs to her mom's closet and pulls out the
same hat the baby in the picture is wearing. She puts it on, examines
herself closely in the mirror, and realizes SHE is the baby. They have
the same nose, hair and sparkle in their eyes. She runs back to her mom
exclaiming she found the baby and they joyfully embrace.
Now that I'm on the other end of the story, I don't know if I'm as
okay with my baby going away as the mom seemed to be. My baby is in the
process of going away and I don't like it. While having a little girl
will bring a new set of joys and blessings, I'm not ready to relinquish
those that came with Audrey as a baby.
Every morning when Audrey wakes up I see more little girl and less baby in her. The lines of her face, the proportions of her body and the understanding she demonstrates make it clear she's on her way to childhood. This has been especially true lately and has brought back the tension I feel when she shows strong signs of growing up. I love to watch her learn and grow and become more of the woman she will one day be but part of me mourns the loss of my baby. She spends her days in a flurry of activity and practicing her ever expanding repertoire of skills. I love watching her play and cause havoc but I miss when her days were spent bundled in the Moby wrap, cooing to herself and drooling. Audrey is still very much so a toddler (sippy cups, frustrated tantrums, unintelligible babble, et al) and we are very far from her actually being a little girl. But I can't help asking myself 'Where did the baby go?'
Audrey can almost completely feed herself with a fork and we're potty training. And you know what? I'm excited. Like SUPER excited for these things. Not because I don't have to sit there and feed Audrey her dinner or change her diaper but because it means she's growing up. She's developing, learning, blossoming. I really don't want her to be a baby forever. If she wasn't able to develop I would be very, very sad because she would never reach her potential. So I cheer her on every time a fork full of food reaches her mouth and something that resembles a word escapes her lips.
Where did my baby go? She's gone. She's my little girl.
That's why we're having another baby. I get to spend countless hours holding a barely moving little bundle, to breast-feed, to wash teeny-tiny little clothes. To know I will do the baby thing again (and hopefully at least once more after that) is great consolation for Audrey getting older.
Every morning when Audrey wakes up I see more little girl and less baby in her. The lines of her face, the proportions of her body and the understanding she demonstrates make it clear she's on her way to childhood. This has been especially true lately and has brought back the tension I feel when she shows strong signs of growing up. I love to watch her learn and grow and become more of the woman she will one day be but part of me mourns the loss of my baby. She spends her days in a flurry of activity and practicing her ever expanding repertoire of skills. I love watching her play and cause havoc but I miss when her days were spent bundled in the Moby wrap, cooing to herself and drooling. Audrey is still very much so a toddler (sippy cups, frustrated tantrums, unintelligible babble, et al) and we are very far from her actually being a little girl. But I can't help asking myself 'Where did the baby go?'
Audrey can almost completely feed herself with a fork and we're potty training. And you know what? I'm excited. Like SUPER excited for these things. Not because I don't have to sit there and feed Audrey her dinner or change her diaper but because it means she's growing up. She's developing, learning, blossoming. I really don't want her to be a baby forever. If she wasn't able to develop I would be very, very sad because she would never reach her potential. So I cheer her on every time a fork full of food reaches her mouth and something that resembles a word escapes her lips.
Where did my baby go? She's gone. She's my little girl.
That's why we're having another baby. I get to spend countless hours holding a barely moving little bundle, to breast-feed, to wash teeny-tiny little clothes. To know I will do the baby thing again (and hopefully at least once more after that) is great consolation for Audrey getting older.
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