It’s so annoying how babies have to grow up.
I mean I know I spent the last 12 months wishing Lucy would walk or talk or wipe her own ass – but then I’m like, WTF. I spent 10 months carrying you inside my stomach.
Three of those months I spent puking out my car door on the way to work. Another three months I spent trying to maneuver out of bed without peeing my pants. And then I spent 5 hours squeezing a 9 pound HUMAN BEING out of my vajayjay and FOR WHAT?
For 12 measly months?
Just 12 months of sweet baby smell. Of falling asleep in my arms and little baby giggles and coos.
And then…that’s it.
No more babies.
All that work and already I’m into toddler-dom and then teenager-dom and then I’m nothing more than a phone call when they get a flat tire or can’t afford the rent.
I know the best is yet to come. I know there are sweet, incredible, unforgettable moments in our future.
Like uninterrupted showers and sleeping past six.
But this time when they are babies. It is indescribable. It is irreplaceable.
It changed my life, having babies.
I learned to love my body, at least a little bit.
I learned how little sleep I can actually survive on.
I discovered that a person can be puked on and live through it.
It has been so hard. And I am so tired.
And yet, I’m here. I have two children. A husband. A family.
I have everything a person could ever want.
My last baby isn’t a baby anymore. And it hurts my heart to even write those words.
But it is also wonderful, beautiful, to watch her become more than my baby. To watch her become Lucy.
Unique, independent, stubborn, sweet and capable of complete and utter destruction.
Watch out world – she’s coming for you – and all your breakable objects.
Happy first trip around the sun little Lucy.
Here’s to many more.