This post is part of an eight minute memoir project that I have seen some of my favorite writers and humans doing. Join in if you want. Sometimes my fingers and my brain need to write. The details are here.
When June was born, she was such a little thing.
Actually, she was a little thing long before she was born. Throughout my whole pregnancy the doctors were worried. You're measuring small! You're measuring small! You gotta little baby in there. In fact, they were so worried that they took June from me 10 days before her due date because she wasn't growing enough. They were convinced that she would get big and plump outside of me much better than she was inside of me.
And so, she came early and she came little. Five pounds twelve ounces. Everyone who held her marveled, "She is such a little thing!" But outside of me she didn't grow at the pace most babies do. She suckled from my breast with the fury of a thousand suns, but she didn't get much bigger. By two months old she was still only eight pounds. People made lots of comments, "She's too little! Can;t you fatten her up? Is she eating enough?" Even some people who read this blog said, "That baby is too little! You must be doing something wrong."
But we weren't doing anything wrong. At least I don't think. June just wanted to be my little thing for much longer than some babies do. At 9 months old she was still wearing 3 month old clothing. I could carry her anywhere with me and not think a thing of it. For the entire first year of her life she was in the first percentile for weight and height. She stayed my baby for so long and I loved every minute of it.
Now she's not my little thing anymore. She has sprouted and grown and looks about like any other two year old. She wears the clothes that should fit her at this time. When I check on her sleeping in her crib, her body sprawled out on the mattress, she looks so big to me. Too big. She is big in personality and spirit too. No longer a baby, she is now a grown up- she talks and thinks and laughs and rides a bike. She throws tantrums and buckles herself in the carseat and says "Mo?" when she wants more juice. She is finally "big"- just like everyone wanted her to be.
And I miss my little thing.
When June was born, she was such a little thing.
Actually, she was a little thing long before she was born. Throughout my whole pregnancy the doctors were worried. You're measuring small! You're measuring small! You gotta little baby in there. In fact, they were so worried that they took June from me 10 days before her due date because she wasn't growing enough. They were convinced that she would get big and plump outside of me much better than she was inside of me.
And so, she came early and she came little. Five pounds twelve ounces. Everyone who held her marveled, "She is such a little thing!" But outside of me she didn't grow at the pace most babies do. She suckled from my breast with the fury of a thousand suns, but she didn't get much bigger. By two months old she was still only eight pounds. People made lots of comments, "She's too little! Can;t you fatten her up? Is she eating enough?" Even some people who read this blog said, "That baby is too little! You must be doing something wrong."
But we weren't doing anything wrong. At least I don't think. June just wanted to be my little thing for much longer than some babies do. At 9 months old she was still wearing 3 month old clothing. I could carry her anywhere with me and not think a thing of it. For the entire first year of her life she was in the first percentile for weight and height. She stayed my baby for so long and I loved every minute of it.
Now she's not my little thing anymore. She has sprouted and grown and looks about like any other two year old. She wears the clothes that should fit her at this time. When I check on her sleeping in her crib, her body sprawled out on the mattress, she looks so big to me. Too big. She is big in personality and spirit too. No longer a baby, she is now a grown up- she talks and thinks and laughs and rides a bike. She throws tantrums and buckles herself in the carseat and says "Mo?" when she wants more juice. She is finally "big"- just like everyone wanted her to be.
And I miss my little thing.
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