Four Months I Can’t Get Back
July 31st, 2013
After returning from our two weeks away from home, we’ve been settling back into our routine. And every single time Little Bird and I encounter a casual acquaintance – be it daycare teachers or church friends – their reaction is the same. They smile broadly and exclaim: “My, she’s grown! She’s getting so big!”
I politely smile back and agree, carefully hiding my urge to shriek — “TAKE IT BACK. TAKE IT BACK RIGHT NOW!!“
You see, I’m still in denial about the forward march of time when it comes to my third-born. Oh yes, I’m remembering how much I love each and every stage of baby development, how every size they become turns out to be the perfect size. Right now Birdie likes to sprawl on my chest while I’m sitting up with her fuzzy head tucked under my chin and her arms flopping down my sides. She’s so incredibly delicious it makes me dizzy.
She’s getting bigger, people. At her four month checkup, she weighed in just shy of 14 pounds and measured 24 inches. (And frankly I think that latter measurement is probably underestimating her, given that the attempt to get a precise measurement involved me trying to hold her feet down while the nurse eyeballed a sewing tape measure…)
She’s cooing and smiling and laughing. Good heavens, does she laugh. The object of her delight is usually her brother and sister and their general silliness and when she lets loose, it’s the most disconcertingly big sound coming from this tiny little creature.
Except she’s not so tiny anymore. And that’s the problem!! Four months have sped by and I cannot get them back, no matter how hard I try. I’m savoring every minute and stalwartly ignoring my husband when he pretends to cough while saying things like “spoiled rotten” and “you’ve created a monster” and “she’s going to be sleeping with you until she goes to college.”
None of it is true, I tell you! She’s perfect in every way and one day very soon I’m going to blink and she really will be going to college and I will silently beg her to spend just one last night nestled in the crook of my arm, but I won’t say it out loud because she would probably find that suggestion really disturbing.
But I’ll be thinking it.