It’s Hard to Say Goodbye to the Different Versions of Your Baby
It's Hard Saying Goodbye to the Different Versions of Your Baby
My 10 month old has outgrown his baby bathtub.
This may seem like a “So what?” remark to some, but it means more than you think.
My baby is growing, and way too fast. Every day he’s learning more and more, being able to do more and more. And it’s so bittersweet.
I love watching him grow. I do. But sometimes I miss my sweet newborn. I know he’s going to be a teen before I know it.
I have seen a post floating around that talks about how it’s hard to say goodbye to the different versions of your baby. Boy oh boy, am I learning just how true that is.
Don’t get me wrong, I absolutely love watching my kids grow and learn. But it is hard to say goodbye to those tiny versions of them that you won’t get to see anymore. You don’t even know when that last time is; one day it just sort of happens.
Yes, I love every version of them. I’m so excited to see who they’re becoming and where life takes them. But I am still allowed to miss the little parts of them I used to have.
Like my sweet little girl, who couldn’t go to sleep without my holding her, now crawls into her big girl bed and falls asleep completely on her own.
My little bubbly dancer, who was always dancing around and loved all my music, now says “Please turn that off. I don’t want to listen to music right now.”
Zen is just now getting into the “dancing to everything he hears” phase, and I am saddened by the idea of knowing it will end someday. I won’t even know it, until one day he’s asking me to “please turn that off.”
The other day I was caught off-guard by the fact that Bayleigh could climb in and out of the bathtub on her own. She’s been doing it for a year or so now, but it hit me that day.
Gone are the days she needs me to lift her in and out of the tub. She can do it herself, and she lets me know it.
The little baby toe beans. The laughing and smiling at literally everything. The learning to talk, the “ma-ma, da-da, goo goo ga-ga.” The eyes drifting slowly closed as they gaze up at you adoringly.
The bursting into song whenever she feels like it. The asking to play constantly, the “Mom Mom Mom Mommy!”
The sitting in my lap and cuddling me. The blowing raspberries on my cheeks. The cute and silly way they say things (like “alligator” for Gatorade).
I am so excited to see the new versions of my babies. But it is hard to say goodbye to their current ones.