Little person, slow down a little, huh?
Vivian will be 3 years old in August.
3. FREAKING not a baby anymore, almost ready for school, big enough for the kids clothing section 3 YEARS OLD.
Which means I'm also another year closer to 30, but that's another post entirely.
Oftimes I catch myself just staring at her. Amazed that I created this creature, that a one point I used to sit there slapping my stomach to get her toes out of my ribs. Thankful that despite my inability to quit smoking while pregnant with her, that's she's smart as a whip, devious, sly, sweet and crazy, like any other almost preschooler. I stare at her as I'd stare at my own reflection-seeing familiar movements, glances, frowns. I'm adopted-this particular sense of familiar is not something I'm quite adjusted to. I can't stop fiddling with her hair when she's around, I can't stop but feel this sense of wonder when I touch her:
She GREW in my belly. Once she wasn't, then she was created, and out came this tiny, high pitched creature., born with a laugh already in her mouth it seems. I remember sitting in bed with headphones and my monitor, straining to hear her heartbeat, and HEARING IT! And listening to it every night.
I was so scared when I saw those little lines on all three tests in under a second each. (Apparently, when I get pregnant, I get REALLY pregnant). I remember crying, and showing my husband. Just standing in the doorway holding the sticks, and holding my mouth. Wondering what the hell we were going to do.
But telling our parents, that was like a gift unto itself. This child was so welcomed, so waited for. I dreamed of her even, dreamed of her name, dreamed of us together. And yet I resisted, I fought the mother urge I thought I'd never had, because I would never stand the pain if something went wrong.
3 years later, I'm someone I wouldn't even recognize if I met her then. Vivian has gifted me patience, tolerance, and a shattering sense of all the pain in the world. Vivian has taught me that nothing is so bad that a good tickle won't fix it. Or yummy ice cream.
But I look at her, and I see what the world is going to do. She'll start school in about 2 years. Kids are mean, the world is mean, and painful and dark sometimes. And I so badly want to spare her these things, even though I know I can't. I want to hold her so tight that nothing will ever touch her, nothing bad at least.
I fight this feeling. I fight it knowing that the world also has good things for her. Learning new things. Falling in love. Riding rollercoasters. Belgian Chocolate. Leeks with potatoes and butter. Your first child in your arms, sleeping.
She's almost 3, and about to step into the world as a person more than she ever has. She's no longer my baby. She's my kid. I never realized there was a difference until now.
Funny...you spend their first few months trying to hurry them up...and the rest of time trying to slow them down.
3. FREAKING not a baby anymore, almost ready for school, big enough for the kids clothing section 3 YEARS OLD.
Which means I'm also another year closer to 30, but that's another post entirely.
Oftimes I catch myself just staring at her. Amazed that I created this creature, that a one point I used to sit there slapping my stomach to get her toes out of my ribs. Thankful that despite my inability to quit smoking while pregnant with her, that's she's smart as a whip, devious, sly, sweet and crazy, like any other almost preschooler. I stare at her as I'd stare at my own reflection-seeing familiar movements, glances, frowns. I'm adopted-this particular sense of familiar is not something I'm quite adjusted to. I can't stop fiddling with her hair when she's around, I can't stop but feel this sense of wonder when I touch her:
She GREW in my belly. Once she wasn't, then she was created, and out came this tiny, high pitched creature., born with a laugh already in her mouth it seems. I remember sitting in bed with headphones and my monitor, straining to hear her heartbeat, and HEARING IT! And listening to it every night.
I was so scared when I saw those little lines on all three tests in under a second each. (Apparently, when I get pregnant, I get REALLY pregnant). I remember crying, and showing my husband. Just standing in the doorway holding the sticks, and holding my mouth. Wondering what the hell we were going to do.
But telling our parents, that was like a gift unto itself. This child was so welcomed, so waited for. I dreamed of her even, dreamed of her name, dreamed of us together. And yet I resisted, I fought the mother urge I thought I'd never had, because I would never stand the pain if something went wrong.
3 years later, I'm someone I wouldn't even recognize if I met her then. Vivian has gifted me patience, tolerance, and a shattering sense of all the pain in the world. Vivian has taught me that nothing is so bad that a good tickle won't fix it. Or yummy ice cream.
But I look at her, and I see what the world is going to do. She'll start school in about 2 years. Kids are mean, the world is mean, and painful and dark sometimes. And I so badly want to spare her these things, even though I know I can't. I want to hold her so tight that nothing will ever touch her, nothing bad at least.
I fight this feeling. I fight it knowing that the world also has good things for her. Learning new things. Falling in love. Riding rollercoasters. Belgian Chocolate. Leeks with potatoes and butter. Your first child in your arms, sleeping.
She's almost 3, and about to step into the world as a person more than she ever has. She's no longer my baby. She's my kid. I never realized there was a difference until now.
Funny...you spend their first few months trying to hurry them up...and the rest of time trying to slow them down.
Beautiful - both the post and Vivian. Those eyes are amazing.
Posted by
Anonymous |
4:55 p.m.
Ok, well that one got me crying. Must be 'new mom sappiness'. Stupid hormones. lol
Posted by
Anonymous |
8:26 p.m.
I'm only here to make pregnant women and crazy new moms cry. That's my "thing" this week.
Posted by
thordora |
9:48 p.m.
I can't remember where I read it but I loved this line from a book that refered to children growing.
"Its almost like adults refuse to believe the concept that childrene grow and everytime they see it its a suprise to them"
but alas its so true, I just said it last night of my neighbors kid "I can't believe how big she is!"
Posted by
Anonymous |
9:52 p.m.
Just a few hours ago I was sitting ont he floor w/ LAnce watching him play. 16 mths old today and I thought "where is the baby?". I was sitting in awe as he accuratly stacked the colored rings on the spindle in the correct order (by size). To look at the skills and lessons that they have learned in such a short time. (only 1x did he throw a tantrum on the tile floor. The bloody nose at 10 mthy he remembers. Now he goes to the rug...then the tantrum). Your entry today sums up everything I was thinking tonight.
Posted by
Anonymous |
12:42 a.m.
*sigh*
I know the feeling well. My "baby" turned three in April, every day she amazes me. I love her to bits. I spend lots of time going "I made her".
Of course, she drives me nuts too.
Great post!
Posted by
Anonymous |
2:07 a.m.
I've been fighting a similar battle, just this past weekend I caught myself saying to my 2 1/2 year old son, go get your buhbuh...then I realized, he doesn't drink bottles, he drinks from big boy cups..he pees on the potty...he's not a baby anymore....I grieve that lil' guy.
Posted by
Anonymous |
4:10 p.m.
Aww! But she's not even three yet and you're already trying to slow her down??
And you're not nearly as close to 30 as I am, I'm sure. I'm practically KISSING it!
Hope that makes you feel younger. ;)
Posted by
Anonymous |
11:33 p.m.
I was going to just let the post go, although I've read it twice already, but after the Crazy Marine Wife's verbal diarrhea, I wanted to add that Viv is GOR-geous w/ those big eyes. She & Z are practically the same age. I look forward to reading another update when she turns 3. I'll do one too. ;)
Posted by
Anonymous |
11:14 a.m.
Nicole It's gone so fast, and I'm so scared for the day when she starts school and I lose my sweet little girl that yeah, I want her to slow down.
There's a lot of 2003 babies. And Z makes me feel better for having less hair than Vivian. I was beginning to think my kid was defective.
Posted by
thordora |
11:22 a.m.
First: not a crazy new mom. I am a new mom, but this certificate from teh institute says "NOT CRAZY" hahaha (kidding)
Second: that child is so freakin' adorable....
Posted by
Anonymous |
11:11 a.m.