I nursed you for the very first time on a sunny, Sunday morning in July. You’d been here less than an hour, but seemed to know what you needed. Your father stood by watching over, nurses came in and out of the room, and I answered questions here and there, but even so, it was somehow just the two of us.
I nursed you for the very last time on a rainy Sunday in February. You were eighteen months–some might say too old, some might say too young, but for us, it was perfect. It was quiet and we were alone, watching the sunlight fade away from the living room window as water drops ran down the glass.
Now, I’m sitting here thinking about firsts and lasts. All at once so happy and proud of how you are growing up and so unbearably sad that this beautiful time we’ve shared must come to an end.
It’s a feeling I know well a year and a half into being your mother. I will never forget the first time I went to put you into a pair of newborn sized, footie pajamas and you simply didn’t fit. Your little shoulders were pushing at the neckline and your tiny (but not so tiny as before) toes were bent against the ends of the footies.
It was an amazing and terrible moment. I sat on the floor of the bedroom in our apartment and cried and cried. You were only six weeks old! How did it happen so fast??? Since then, I can’t even count the number of times you’ve grown out of something I specifically remember looking at and thinking it would take forever for you to grow into.
I love being your mama. I am so proud of your curiosity, intelligence, strength, and independence. It’s been my absolute pleasure to give you every opportunity I can to learn so you can do life on your own one day. And it’s heartbreaking having to say goodbye to a version of you I love so deeply and will never see again without looking at a photograph.
That said, my sweet Sunshine, every time my heart is broken in goodbye, it’s put back together with love that just gets bigger and more as you get bigger and more. Regardless of how much or little you ever need me, I will always be here. After all, if you and I are anything like me and my mother (that’s Granny Bee, to you), you’ll be calling about how to make the biscuits, how to get that stain out, and just for giggles over mimosas long after you’re out in the world, making your own way. : )