Where’d My Baby Go ? 

Last night, I was laying in bed with Nola, like I do every night. And I found myself staring at her for a really long time. She wasn’t the 7 lbs little baby i brought home almost ten months ago, anymore. She’s almost one. She’s basically a toddler. 

When did she get so big ? 

I feel like so much of the beginning of her life was spent in a sleepless, sore, crying-filled haze that all blends together when I try to look back at it now. I feel like I didn’t absorb as much of her little baby days as I should have. 

But, honestly how could I do more than I did ? There wasn’t a single moment I spent apart from her. There wasn’t a second that she wasn’t in my arms, on my boob, or in the same room with me. She sleeps in my bed. She takes a bath when I shower. She comes to work with me. Not a moment apart. Yet, it still feels like there are memories that I’m missing. 

Maybe it’s because, for almost three weeks, feeding her would cause me massive amounts of physical pain. 

Maybe it’s because I was (and still am) the only one getting up with her every night, every single time she would wake up. Sometimes, I would get two hours of sleep MAX. 

Who knows. 

I looked over at her and realized my baby wasn’t such a baby anymore. 

She waves “hello” and “goodbye.” She says “mama” when she wants me to hold her. She feeds herself. She is so smart and strong. 

As I’m wirting this, she’s sitting in the middle of the floor, analyzing her toy box. She isn’t looking to me to be held or coddled. She doesn’t want attention. She’s being independent. 

I’m so proud of her. I’m so proud that she is the way she is. So smart, silly, always learning, always curious, always looking for something to investigate and get into. 

In such a short time, she’s evolved into a small person. She’s not the little baby who sleeps on and off all day. She interacts and plays. 

I suppose there wasn’t too much for me to remember when it comes to her little days. Lots of sleeping. Lots of eating. Lots of people telling me she shouldn’t sleep in bed with me. All that jazz. And I remember that, and honestly that’s all there was to it. Mostly. 

Now is when the memories start to become more substantial. Crawling, talking, big girl food, walking.

I was there when she first crawled. When she first babbled. When she first sat up. When she first age big girl food. The first time she went in the snow. The first time she went to the park. The first time she pulled herself up. Her first teeth popping up. Her first smile and laughs. 

I was there for all of that. And they’re such beautiful memories. I’m so thankful to have them. 

While she is transitioning from a baby to a toddler, I’m excited to embrace all of the new things that are in store for her. Walking, talking, reading, writing, friendships. There is so much life for her to live and it’s only barley started. 

The memories are just beginning. The future is exciting. 
-Em

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Baby Talk

Today, as Nola was playing with her toys, something happened. Normally, when I put her down, she holds up her arms and cries to be picked up. But, today when I set her down, she didn’t cry, she didn’t look up at me or watch me walk away; she looked at her toys and decided to play with those instead. 

One thousand and one times I have put her down and gotten irritated that she immediately wanted to be picked up. I just needed two minutes to go to the bathroom, make food, rest my arm. Just a moment for myself where I didn’t have a 17 pound baby attached to my hip. A second where my glasses weren’t getting smudged by wet baby fingers, my hair wasn’t being pulled, my face wasn’t getting gnawed and sucked on. Just. One. Second. 

Then, today, I put her down- very well expecting her to cry and put her arms out to be picked up. But she didn’t. She didn’t cry or fuss or stiffen her legs so I couldn’t sit her down. She looked at her toys and decided to play with them. 

At first I thought “yes. Thank you goddess.” But, then I was sad. Why wasn’t my baby reaching for me like she always does ? Why did she pick her toys over wanting to be held ? 

In that moment I realized how big she really is. I recognized that she is on the cusp of so many big things. She’s almost mobile, so she won’t soley rely on me to get around. She’s eating more and more solid food, and our breastfeeding journey is getting shorter and shorter everyday. 

I look at her and see that, yes she’s still a baby, but she’s not the little tiny thing I brought home, what seems like, yesterday. She entertains herself and communicates. She interacts and explores. She laughs and babbles and smiles and growls and yells. She smiles and wiggles with happiness when she sees her aunties and nana and papa. She squeals with glee when I walk into the room. And it melts my heart.

And it makes me think. One day, she won’t be happy to see me. One day, she is going to be a teenager-and lets be honest, teenagers are awful. One day, she won’t want to cuddle with me and she won’t let me kiss her a million times a day. 

It feels like 7 months have sped past at super sonic speed and I haven’t had a chance to savor any of the moments. I realize now that, when she lays on my chest, she is a little heavy and a little longer than I remember. When she nurses, her little legs don’t stop at my tummy anymore; now then wrap around to past my hips and her little hands reach up and grab my face. 

As excited as I am for the future-for preschool and art projects and Halloween costumes and dance recitals and little pig tails and the first days of school-I already miss my little baby. 

I intend to savor every moment, because it truly has gone by much, much too fast.

-Em

A whirlwind of thoughts

Disclaimer: this turned into an odd combination of thoughts and it doesn’t flow as might as I would have liked. 

I’m just in absolute baby mode these past few days. I’m over emotional, I’m more clingy than she is and I’m just obsessing over everything she does. Baby fever ? 

I don’t really know what this is suppose to be about. But, the idea came to me tonight when Nola decided to cuddle with me. 

It’s a rare thing. 

Normally, she nurses herself to sleep, then she wants to be put down on her side of the bed. She rolls onto her side and sucks on her paci as she sleeps. 

But, tonight she wanted to cuddle. She woke up and started fussing. When she fusses after waking up, she doesn’t open her eyes she’s like sleep crying. She’ll do the same thing when she wakes up in the morning. She’ll have her eyes closed and she’ll be playing with her toes and babbling to herself. It’s silly. But, I digress. 

She was fussing so I picked her up and she nuzzled herself into my chest and under my chin and fell right asleep. No nursing, no paci. She just wanted her mommy. 

This is a feeling I have grown to love more than anything in the world. 

I feel like some people think I act like some high and mighty mom. But, the truth is I just experience motherhood on an extremely deep level.

Not to say that other moms my age don’t experience it deeply as well. Every experience is different and for me this is the most loving, intimate, beautiful thing possible and I try to experience it in all of its glory. 

So, moments like this, when I blog about my daughter cuddling with me, people may look at it like such an over exaggeration “so what, my baby cuddles with me, too” and I know that. And I know you love it.

I just like to talk about it. 

I like to talk about my baby. 

There are things I like to talk about. And so what if I like it ? What does anyone care what I want to talk about-especially if they don’t like me or the content ? 

Why do people waste their time with people they don’t like. Reading things these people they don’t like write. Why waste your time ? Why do that to yourself ? This is about me and what I like. If you don’t like it, don’t read it. 

I like to talk about my food.

 I like to talk about my vegan diet. 

This is my blog.

About my thoughts. About my feelings. About my likes. About my passions. About me. 

If you don’t like it- thank god no one is holding a gun to your head and forcing you to read this. 

-Em