(Savannah, age 2 mos)

Savannah obligingly wiggled out after I unbuckled her. Then she put her hand on my cheek so I would look at her.

(7 months)

Savannah: "I not a baby, Mom."

(13 months)

I thought how strange it was that I could walk to the door normally when, inside, I was having such conflicting emotions: pride that she would declare her independence; happiness that she wasn’t asserting herself angrily but instead, knowingly; the sense of loss that immediately hit me.

(16 months)

Rachel was (and is) much more insistent about her autonomy. From day 1, it has been an internal and external battle to see how much she could control around her. But as a baby, even though she had a need to control her environment, she was still my little shadow. I was the only one who could soothe her, the only person she wanted to be around, the one she wanted to read stories and sing songs with and the one she wanted to snuggle with at night. Eventually, there was a point, about the same age, where she suddenly wasn’t a baby anymore - where she needed me to be there, but didn’t need me all the time. I was proud of her then, and surprised at how bittersweet it was to mourn that connection we had. I hadn’t realized how short those days would be, how soon she would forget that we were best friends, and how quickly she would turn away from clinging to me and toward being herself.

I take comfort in knowing that no matter how much Rachel protests, she still needs and wants me to be there, to hug her and kiss her, to set some boundaries for her, and to encourage her to be herself, to be her safehaven. But it made having Savannah, such a cuddly and loving baby, all the more precious to me. I knew how short it would be.

(20 months)

And here it is. I’m proud of her. I am! But, boy, am I going to miss my baby.