You know what? I can believe it. Unlike you, I see my child every single day. I feel each day of those 7 months in my back, my boobs, my shoulders, and my hips. I make sure I have at least one picture of her per week (and I've only missed one week since she was born). I can remember her as a squishy newborn, a tummy-time hating 3-month-old, and when she cut those bottom two teeth simultaneously. And what I can't remember? I probably have a video or picture that might jog my memory.
Maybe I'm just too practical for the sentimental mom set. Or maybe it's because I didn't really start enjoying motherhood until three months into it. I know that babies grow. And they do it quickly. I don't wish her smaller, saying things like "I'm not ready for my baby to grow up!" when she hits a new milestone. I also don't (usually) wish her older. I treat her much like I do myself. I've always been content at the age and stage that I'm at, never striving to look older or younger, so why should I treat my baby any differently?
Saying that certain events "feel like just yesterday" doesn't give full respect to everything that has happened since that event. Sometimes I feel like I'm still 23, but then I remember all the cool stuff I've done in the past 5 years. There's no way I could still be 23 with all those wonderful adventures underfoot. The same goes for my baby--if "just yesterday" she was a marathon-nursing 6-week-old, then what about all those "boring" days we've had just reading together, taking her to the pool, singing her new (usually made-up) songs, and listening to her laugh? That's where our bond has happened in our own unique way, and it would be very regretful to just gloss over those days in favor of milestones that almost every baby hits.
Maybe I'll change my tune in a few years, but I sort of doubt it. I can believe that my nephew is 8 years old, even though I also remember very clearly the day he was born. I recall dancing with him to The Wiggles videos in his toddler years, playing in the yard with him as a preschooler, and I remember the phone call I made to him to tell him that B would soon be his uncle. The time of year has come again for him to solicit his Cub Scout popcorn to me, and that is when nobody can deny that he truly is a third-grader.
I enjoy each day as it comes. You may have noticed that on this blog I never say "I can't believe the week/month/year is over!" That's because I can believe it.
|A picture from yesterday, her first Grandparents Day. |
She's getting bigger, but it's happening at the perfect pace.