I love my vibrant, impulsive, brave, incredibly intelligent and fiercely independent little human. But tonight…tonight, I miss my baby.
I miss the little squeals and growls and silly sounds. I miss watching her scurry around the living room on hand and knee. I miss trying to figure out what she wants from the toy box as she stands there propped against the side pointing passionately and babbling “dat dat” at me, trying to communicate…using only her chubby little hands, expressions, and the sounds with which we have created meaning together. I miss the way our bodies fit together. I miss her little baby giggles. I miss the simplicity. I miss the way my breast, my touch could right any wrong, soothe any upset, calm any storm. I even miss sitting stranded in a rocker in the dark for hours while she napped on me.
It is so different now. Watching old videos, I can see her in that baby. But, the baby is disappearing from her every day. She is her own person now, and although I know that this change, this evolution, is healthy and normal, it doesn’t make that ache inside any less painful. When she nurses to sleep at night, it is no longer that soft baby body tucked in close. It is awkward now. All elbows and knees and teeth, head jammed uncomfortably into my arm, our bodies twisted askew.
Our relationship now is a constant push and pull. She longs to be independent, to control her environment. She is constantly lashing out with her fiery temper, trying desperately to make a space for herself. But, she still needs me so desperately, that whenever I back away to give her what she is asking for, she rushes me like a wave. I think I am supposed to be like the beach – ever present, calm, settled, a place for her to flow and crash upon. But, I get so tired.
There are things to love about this time too, of course. So many things. And one day, I will look back on this time as I look back on her babyhood now. But, for tonight, I am allowing myself to be gray, to lament the loss of the tiny baby I once held, while I stay wrapped in the comfort of knowing that the joy of the human she is now will be back tomorrow when the sun shines on her amazing little face.
Image by Kelli McClintock
