Last night in bed, I thought about you — soundly asleep in your room — and I cried.
You’re 11 months now. You have personality, spunk, intellect, and are growing by leaps and bounds every day.
It all breaks my heart.
I know you still need me and will for a long time to come, but it seems we’ve reached this point at warp speed.
I often look at you and wonder what happened to my tiny baby. What happened to the girl who was too small for newborn-sized clothes? What happened to the 4-month-old who delighted in her first taste of blueberries? Where’s the girl whose first real smile — during a 3 a.m. diaper change in October — stopped my heart?
I don’t want you to stop growing. God, I’d never want that for you. I just want a way to capture every moment. I want to store every minute with you in my head and heart.
I want time to slow down so I can bask in the beauty of every second we have together.
Years from now, you’ll read this and give an “Oh, mom” eye roll. It’s OK. It’s what we kids do during sappy mom moments. But before you dismiss me, there’s one more sappy thing I have to tell you: I didn’t know how deeply I could love until I was blessed with you.
I love your father. I love your grandparents. But you’ve heard and felt my heartbeat from the inside. Our connection is stronger than any I’ve ever had.
That will never change, no matter how much you grow.
If I’m this sentimental at 11 months, how am I going to handing you turning 1?