Tuesday, December 1, 2015

So Big!


Two nights ago Piper did something that scared the crap out of me. It is one of the fears I have always had as a mother, and something that I hoped she would never do. 

I had put her to bed and was sitting downstairs. I heard her start to cry. It is right after a break, so I knew that she probably wasn't tired yet because she had gotten used to going to bed a little bit later than normal over the past week. However, she had to get up early and needed to go to sleep. I went back upstairs and rocked her for a few minutes. I put her back down and she immediately popped back up and started screaming. She did NOT want to go to bed. I decided to let her cry it out for awhile. I went back down stairs. She was protesting pretty profusely and then all of a sudden I hear this big BANG and the whole house shook.

I knew instantly what had happened. I have never climbed a set of stairs so quickly in my life. When I reached her door I could tell that she standing on the other side of it. So there it was--my child, the crib escape artist.

I gave her a quick once over. Evaluated her pupils. Made sure she could walk to me without a limp. Made sure she could move and lift both arms over her head. Saw that she could wiggle her finger and toes, and turn her neck, and decided that she was probably fine. But. I. Was. Not. Fine. 

I raced down the stairs with her and grabbed my phone to call my husband, who was out getting dinner. I broke down on the phone with him trying to tell him what had happened. I was so scared. I knew she was fine. That wasn't the issue. The issue was the what if's. What if she hadn't been fine. What if she had broken something--like her neck. I would have felt like it was my fault. I couldn't live with that. 

After a call to the pediatrician and some M&Ms to calm our nerves we lowered her crib all the way to the floor to ensure that she could not again escape, but vowed that we would not let her cry tonight out of fear that she might try again. 

Yesterday I spent spare time searching Wal-Mart for toddler beds months earlier than I thought I would have to and choked back tears. My baby is not ready for a big girl bed. My baby is, well, a baby still.

But the facts were all there, she is not a baby anymore. She is almost two. She hasn't sipped from a bottle in almost a year. She can say full sentences, and count to fifteen. She can tell you her name, that she a girl, and that she loves her Daddy. She knows at least 15 different songs by heart. She can spoil the ending of any book in her repertoire. She is a busy, beautiful, wild, bustling, toddler. NO denying it anymore.

As I am already planning her second birthday party, I shouldn't be surprised. But I was. She may be ready, but I am not. As they say--each day she is youngest and smallest she will ever be. It seems like forever ago that I was pregnant with her. I can barely remember what it felt like to nurse her, to cuddle that tiny body. It just seems like a lifetime ago. 

And it was. She is a completely different person, and so am I. She has made me that way. I am thankful for that. I truly am. So I will have to learn to be ok with the fact that she is SO BIG! I needed the reminder to stop and savor the moments everyday. Because one day I will look back on these days and miss them too. I want to remember every little bit. So tonight we are going to play Ring Around the Rosie. I'll let her chase me around the kitchen island. Maybe we will even have a dance party on Mommy's bed. That's what I want to remember one day when she is again, So Big.


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