This time last year…

13754487_10103478508897199_5358691946049998212_nThis time last year I was headed to the hospital to be induced! 40 hours of labor later, our sweet girl was here, and our most epic year yet ensued. I’m having such a hard time juggling the emotions that come with this milestone. On one hand, I’m thrilled we’ve made it to this point (knock on wood) without any serious incidents, and that she’s healthy and robust. On the other, every day I witness pieces of her “baby-ness” melt away, and it’s devastating. I’ll conclude this post with the text from “If I Could Keep You Little” written and illustrated by Marianne Richmond. This one will be joining our library soon.

If I could keep you little,
I’d hum you lullabies.
But then I’d miss you singing
your concert’s big surprise.

If I could keep you little,
I’d hold your hand everywhere.
But then I’d miss you knowing,
“I can go… you stay there.”

If I could keep you little,
I’d kiss your cuts and scrapes.
But then I’d miss you
learning from your own mistakes.

If I could keep you little,
I’d strap you in real tight.
But then I’d miss you swinging
from your treetop height.

If I could keep you little,
I’d decide on matching clothes.
But then I’d miss you choosing
dots on top and stripes below.

If I could keep you little,
I’d cut your bread into shapes.
But then I’d miss you finding,
“Hey! I like ketchup with my grapes!”

If I could keep you little,
I’d tell you stories every night.
But then I’d miss you reading
the words you’ve learned by sight.

If I could keep you little,
I’d push you anywhere.
But then I’d miss you feeling
your speed from here to there!

If I could keep you little,
I’d pick for you a friend or two.
But then I’d miss you finding
friends you like who like you too!

If I could keep you little,
we’d finger-paint our art.
But then I’d miss you creating
stories from you heart.

If I could keep you little,
I’d push your ducky float.
But then I’d miss you feeling
the wind behind summer’s boat.

If I could keep you little,
we’d nap in our fort midday.
But then I’d miss you sharing
adventures from camp away.

If I could keep you little,
I’d fly you with my feet.
But then I’d miss you seeing
sky and clouds from your seat.

If I could keep you little,
I’d keep you close to me.
But then I’d miss you growing
into who you’re meant to be!

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