A Tear-Jerker...

Written by Louise Josephine for her blog, The Confusing Diaries of a Puzzled Mummy.

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I can still remember the overwhelmingly raw feeling, that morning I woke up, on the first full day of your life. I couldn’t leave you lying in that see through box. I had to hold you. I had to keep you close.

I remember the warmth of your tiny head and how I tucked it under my chin so I could breathe every inch of you into my lungs.

I held you in the nook of my neck that day and I’ve held you there every day since.

But this evening, as I carried you in to your room whilst you were sound asleep, your head resting as it has done for the past 6 years, I passed a mirror.
And instead of my tiny baby, with soft fuzzy hair, you were a fully grown little person, all legs and arms.

I noticed you’d gotten heavier. But I didn’t realise that your littleness was now bigness.

I hadn’t noticed you change. 

They say to make the most of every moment. But I’m terrified I didn’t. Because there you were, so small and fragile. And now here you are. Unrecognisable.

Time has slipped through my fingers, escorted by the busyness of life, where the mundane blinds you to the small moments that you should grab with every fibre of your being.

Did I grab them enough?

I’m not sure I did.

Will I in the future?

I’m not sure I will.

But I’ll try. 

Because tonight I realised. There will be a time in the not so distant future, that you’ll rest your head in that nook for the last time.

And oh, my heart.