My Baby

My baby is growing up too fast.

He’s already 3 ½ months old and I can’t believe the time is going by so quickly. It seems like just yesterday that we were strapping him into his car seat for the ride home from the hospital. He was so tiny…just 7 lbs when we got home and it took no effort at all to hold him. Rocking him to sleep felt like rocking a little puff of air, he was so light

Now, I look at my strapping boy…he’s pushing 20 lbs, is almost 2 feet long, and so strong that it takes all my strength to keep him from leaping out of my arms. Already, he’s got the itch to move, to explore, to go. And every night when I rock him to sleep, I know that one night, it will be the last time. One night he will tell me that he’s a big boy and he doesn’t need me to rock him. It breaks my heart.

It’s so unfair that those first days at home are such a blur for the mommy…I was still so doped up and in pain from having him and walking around in a daze that I only vaguely remember our first days out of the hospital. Everyone else got to savor and enjoy them. I was just trying to remember if I had had the presence of mind to take a shower or eat that day.

So, now, as I sit in my rocking chair with the night light glowing and lullabies playing softly, I hold my baby close. I smell his hair. I kiss his cheek. I marvel at the small perfection of his hands. And I savor him and try to engrave those moments on my heart so that one day, when he is a big boy, I can really remember what it was like to be the center of his world. And, hopefully, understand that even if he thinks he doesn’t need me to rock him to sleep, he will always need me to be his mom.