forgetful

I remember the first time I felt it.  Jaia was 3 months old and we put her in the Jolly Jumper for the first time.  After a minute or two of hanging there, she began to jump and bounce about with a look of ‘what the hell?’ written across her face.  Her legs were suddenly useful and she had no idea what to do with them.  And for the first time in her life, she seemed independent.  She didn’t need Dan or I to hold her or move her – she was doing all on her very own.

As I sat across the room on the couch, I remember feeling a ridiculous sadness at the sight in front of me.  My baby was growing up and wouldn’t need me someday.  Yes, she was only 3 months old at the time, but it felt real to me.  I felt a pang in my heart.  My little girl needed me a little less than she had the day before.  I was ready, then and there, to make a deal with the devil to slow time right down to a crawl.  I was just not ready for this.

I’ve had that same feeling a few more times over the last 26 months.  Hiding behind my moments of pure joy that Jaia had learned a new skill was the sadness that she wasn’t so much my baby anymore.  She learned to walk, and didn’t need me to hold onto her anymore.  She learned to come down the stairs and no longer reaches out for me to help her.  She knows what she likes.  She dresses herself.  She’s completely potty trained and has been for months.  At night, instead of begging and crying for me to stay until she falls asleep, she rolls over when she is tired, says, “goodnight, mama” and then asks me to leave the door open a little as I leave. 

Just a few days ago we were sitting on the couch together and she grabbed my copy of New Moon (yes, that’s right, I’m reading it) started flipping the pages and began to sing the alphabet.  The entire alphabet.  A to Z.  With a little, “now I know my A B Cs, next time won’t you sing with me” at the end.  Jaw dropped.  I had no idea she knew that (and was obviously not responsible for it).  But it was amazing – and just another example of how fast she’s growing up before our eyes.

Since before Jaia was born, wise moms have been telling me to never wish away a stage.  I promised myself that I would listen to this advice and try breathe in these moments, every one, even if they were sometimes trying, tiring and frustrating – a certain looooong night of no sleep and hours of screaming comes to mind.  And I have.  I think about how great it’ll be when she can climb into her own carseat and do up the buckles (a symbol to one mom that her little one was, in fact, not so little anymore), but I’m going to miss so much of the tiny Jaia I love now when she outgrows her. 

Each new stage brings with it a great sense of amazement of this little person I created.  Each milestone reminds me of where she going and how far she’s come in such a short time.  I want her to continue to grow and learn and become independent and strong and an individual, but I’m just not sure that I’ll ever really get over her not needing her mama as much anymore.