I stopped right in the middle of pulling on my socks when I saw you. My, what big eyes you have little lady, and they opened fully as they examined me questioningly this early morning. I halted, and I smiled at you, waiting to see if you would cry or go back to sleep.
Your heavy lids won over, and I watched as your head fell back upon the pillow, drifting back to dreamland as quickly as you had been pulled out of its grasp moments before. And as you chose sleep over tears I thought, so big.
My big girl, laying on a big girl pillow, taking up almost the full length of the bed below it. I had to go to you then, one sock on, and one sock waiting. I curled up beside you, and I kissed your head. As I prayed for you I brushed my hand across your shoulder. Then I rested my hand there on your arm, and I took note of how tiny your little bones were. So fragile, and I knew you needed me there to protect you from harm. I thought then, so little.
Although I just had to touch you, hold you before I left for the day, I tried not to wake you. When you had awoke minutes earlier I pictured your tears from the night before, welling in your eyes when I told you “night, night baby. Mommy’s got work in the morning.”
You had grabbed for me then, holding me tight, tears threatening to spill. The sight of your quivering lip made Mommy’s heart hurt, but it also felt strangely good, to be needed that is. So I held you until you fell asleep, because you needed me to, my baby girl, still so little.
After you fell asleep I gathered you into my arms to carry you to bed for the night, and as I pulled your body to mine and I stood erect, I almost fell down. It wasn’t that your physical weight was more than I could carry, but rather the emotional weight that threatened to make my knees buckle. As I held you, my baby girl, and your long legs grazed my shins, I was astonished at the length of you, growing so fast, so tall. So big.
And after the week we had it just seemed to be a little heavier than usual to bear. After all, this week you had started dance class, and as I watched you spin and maneuver just like the instructor told you, I knew you were getting so big!
And if I doubted it for even a moment it was pounded home by week’s end. I stared at the list of Pre-K classes, overwhelmed that it was time to register already. I held your little hand in mine, and I didn’t want to let go, even though I knew you were so big now.
“I can do it myself Momma,” you say, and I almost want to cry when you do. I watch proudly as you brush your teeth, get dressed all by yourself, and somehow match things perfectly.
I see your Daddy cringe when you say, “can I spend the night at Nonnie’s? I’ll be okay.” And I silently thank my lucky stars when he answers back, “no baby. You’re still too little.” I hold on as long as I can. I can’t help it.
When you crawl in my lap, and say, “hold me Momma,” I do! I hold you tight, as long as I can. Again, I can’t help it. But in these moments, neither can you.
It’s all going so fast, and I worry sometimes if I don’t hold you tight, that I’ll look up, and you’ll be taller than me.
So I hold you, and I hold on to this perfect time. To you baby. My baby. So big, so little. Just right.
Amy Garren says
adorable 🙂
brieann.rn@gmail.com says
Thank you.
Danny says
“THANK HEAVEN FOR LITTLE GIRLS”….DB
brieann.rn@gmail.com says
Agreed!
Denise says
Beautifully written.. And so very true. Moments that as mothers we will never regret.
brieann.rn@gmail.com says
Thank you. My calling in life.
Leslie says
Perfectly captured – those precious few years we have with them. So sweet!
brieann.rn@gmail.com says
Thank you!