Sometimes I look at you and my eyes instantly fill. Never, in all my life, have I cried so many tears. You’ve single handedly reduced me to an emotional wreck.
Sometimes I cry with anxiety; sometimes I cry with joy. Tonight, I’m crying through both. You see, tonight you’ll spend your 1st night in your cot.
For any baby, this is a momentous occasion. It’s a milestone every parent cherishes. It’s symbolic of your growth, of your journey. For us, this means so much more.
Your journey has been longer than most babies, your growth has been significant. At 11 months old, you’re still wearing 3-6 months clothing comfortably. You’re still the size of a five month old.
You’ve been a baby for so long – I’ve savoured every moment but now I know it’s time.
I once wrote that I’d never rush you to grow. I meant it, I never have but it’s clear to see, my beautiful caterpillar, that you’re ready to shed your cocoon.
For 11 months, we’ve swaddled you in silk. Partly because you’ve needed us to and partly because we’ve needed to. You felt precious from the start. Delicate. Fragile.
I look at you now and can no longer spot the signs of your distressing start. You’re growing and you’re ready.
Sometimes I wonder whether I’ve held you back, selfishly cradled you to fulfil my own needy desires. It still kills me that I wasn’t your initial caregiver. The guilt oozes out in the most random of times. I wake, in the middle of the night, and remember when it was nurses tending to your 2am cares. The feeling knocks me sick. It should have been me, it should always have been me. I feel like I have to make it up to you. I need to make you know how much I wanted it to be me. The thought of you sleeping in your own room prickles my skin. It takes me back to when you didn’t sleep by my side. This place belongs to you, I’m not ready for you to forget that.
Sometimes I look at you and panic. I’ve lived in the past for so long that I didn’t see you blossom. When were you able to sit unaided in a high chair? We tired you so many times, watched you flop to your right and wondered whether we should persevere or help. Tonight, I expected much of the same. Yet there you were, kicking with joy.
You babble, you laugh, you’ve made up your mind of what you like and dislike. You study your brother and know so many of his traits. You copy his words, copy his mannerisms.
You’re certainly no longer a baby!
So tonight, we’ll start with your big bed. Next month, I might stretch to your own room…and in the mean time, I’ll relinquish my control and allow you to show me what you’re capable of. I’ve got a feeling that I’m going to be astounded.
Grow your wings, my beautiful caterpillar. You’re ready…and so am I xx