The Littlest Big Girl


There’s a thing that happens when a tiny new babe enters your life. The one you had before instantly doubles in size. They are suddenly heavier, taller, smarter. The warm baby fuzz that surrounds them seems to dissipate and there they are as clear as day. Gigantic!

Every. Single. Time.

Baby G is so tiny. She’s a tiny sprite. Wild wisps of hair, and glittering blue eyes. She’s light as a feather and warm and fuzzy. Or so it seems. I can see her real self poking out though. The lines are getting crisper. She’s very vocal now. She can reach things she couldn’t before. She pees on the potty (most of the time;). I can feel the fuzz dissipating and I’m not ready.

Next month her brother will be here. He will be teeny. He will be weightless. He will be surrounded in fuzz. It will be minutes or maybe half an hour before she comes barreling in. She will be her usual self. She won’t know how different she is. When she scale’s the side of our bed all by herself, and walks, on her own, over to me. When she curls up beside me and gazes at that new fuzzy bundle. When she asks who he is, and what his name is, and why he’s on her Mama. Because she can say those words and ask those questions now. And I will see her so clearly that it will make my eyes water.

I’m not ready. I wasn’t when it happened to O. I wasn’t when it happened to E. I’m savouring every moment because soon, too soon, we will both be in a new phase.