The Lasts

Right now I have an enemy. His name is Time.  He is a thief - he has stolen my beautiful infant son and turned him into a handsome little baby.  A baby who is trying desperately to crawl and stand, and who has the beginnings of his first tooth. 

I love watching Cole grow up - each new skill he learns, each new wonder and joy as he becomes more and more mobile...but a part of my heart breaks as he becomes more independent.  As he starts solid food and doesn't need as much of my milk provided for him.  As he holds his own bottle.  As he puts his own pacifier back into his mouth.  A part of me wonders, does he still need his mama?  And a part of me dreads the day he won't need me anymore.  Because I will always need him - he is my flesh and blood. 

I have traded his coos for sweet babbling.  I have traded his excitedly flailing limbs for controlled grasping.  I have traded his gummy little smiles for toothy grins. 

I love all his new skills.  I can't wait for the day when he will speak my name, call me Mama. For when he will reach out to hug me.  For the first slobbery kiss.  But sometimes the trade-off hurts - the giving up of his babyhood, even for all the joy of toddlerhood. 

I think, perhaps, this is the love of a mama.  Because the love and pure happiness outshine any of the bittersweet lasts.