My little baby is growing up.
When Darcy was a tiny newborn she did nothing but let me cradle her and loll about in my arms, being a little squishy teeny bean.
Now she's two, those moments when she will actually lay in my arms are like rare gems. Sometimes I'm secretly glad when she wakes up in the night because it allows me a rare opportunity to hold her like that and have those quiet moments of love. Those moments are so perfect they almost make me cry. There is absolutely nothing in the entire world I would swap it for.
A few days ago, after her bath, Matt brought her down in her towel (I forget why) and she pretended to be a tiny baby. She thought it was a game. To me it was heartbreaking.
I am so excited to watch my baby grow into a toddler and then child but I am sad for all the time that passes and for all the moments I can't have back. I think this is the impossible fight that every mother feels and no mother concurs.
I can't decide what kind of blog post this is, reflective I suppose. It doesn't really serve much of a purpose to you but since this is my place to document life, I think it's OK to say it.
I'm excited for my child and I miss my tiny baby. My heart doesn't know what to do.
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