Not My Baby Anymore
This past year has been a blur: a blur of new baby, long hours of nursing, and now breathtakingly busy days since I’ve returned to work. During this crazy haze, something important has snuck up on me, and now it’s weighing heavily: Baby Cakes is turning five tomorrow, and I’m sad.
I’m really, really sad, and I never expected it. I felt a few twinges when she turned four last year, but nothing like this. I kinda feel like I’ve lost a year with her. Our way of coping with the new addition to our family was for me to predominantly care for the baby, and McHotty took Cakes most of the time. I missed a lot of bedtime stories, and now I feel guilty.
I know there are a lot of great things about five. Life is a lot easier, we have wonderful conversations together, she is lots and lots of fun. But she will never be my baby again, and each month she needs me less and less. Since the first five years went this fast, I’m already dreading the day I will look at the calendar and realize she’s turning ten, then fifteen.
They say the days are long and the years are short, and man is that true. Tonight I’ll put a smile on my face and bake cupcakes with my girl, and read her extra stories before bed. I’ll be smiling on the outside, but inside I’m sobbing.