There are only two weeks until my daughters first birthday. Every time I think about it I get a little misty eyed. Sure, I’m excited to see her
eat her first piece of cake stuff her face with cake and celebrate her first year of life with loved ones. But I find myself being really sentimental about it too.
We’re not having any more babies. This is the last one. This is it – the last first birthday our children will have.
I selfishly want to stop time. Ok, maybe just push pause. Just to give myself enough time to wrap my mind around this. It seems like just yesterday I was dreaming of being a mommy and then in a flash my youngest child is starting to walk. Her adorable gummy smile has transformed into an adorable smile with four teeth. Her little baby coos are now turning into words like mama and dada.
And I thought time flew when we had one child. After Emma was born, I struggled even more to slow it down and savor every moment. Try I did – unsuccessfully. I blink and manage to lose a month.
While weeding out the baby clothes that no longer fit, I have been stock-piling certain special onesies and shirts that both of my girls wore with the intent of using them to make them into a blanket. I hope I really do it. The truth is I’m not entirely convinced I will. I’m just not ready to let them go. So until then, they will probably stay in a bag in the back of my closet. In a place where I can pull them out anytime I choose and picture my girls when they were little, even when they’re not so little anymore.