Dear baby J,
This is my second letter to you. (But who’s counting anyway.)
I was prompted to write this one evening after our usual bedtime nursing session. I looked down at you as you lay peacefully drifting off to sleep, and I thought to myself:
Where in the world did my baby go?
You spent 9 peaceful months in the womb, and now it’s been 9 months in the great and wild outdoors. I know you’re having the time of your life — exploring places on all fours with that focused leopard crawl of yours, finding leverage on anything to lift yourself onto your twos, and emptying out every little drawer or container in the house. Oh and let’s not forget, terrorizing your grandma and bullying her into carrying you around for the other parts of the day. While your everyday smile, that wide-eyed cheeky boyish grin, remains, the baby part of you — your gummy grins, your botak head, your vulnerability and your soft folds of skin — is fast vanishing.
I almost sound like I’m craving for another baby, but trust me I’m not. I’m just wishing we could rewind time to a couple months back.
Not that I would do anything differently, even if that really happened.
I would linger more,
not rush about as much,
leave a bit of shopping undone,
just to be with you.
And watch you grow.
Not too long now till you start zipping about on your twos, demanding for your rights and entitlements in the form of fun or yummy goods, running around and having a whale of a time with your sister…and I know that there’ll be wonderful things to look forward to, to discover and delight in together.
But for now, will you excuse me for staring at you a little bit longer than usual…I just need to savour you in the present.