Today, when you woke before we had to get your sisters and brother from school, I held you again to feed you your bottle. Although you nestled into my arms, your firm grip on the bottle told me that you didn't need me to help you hold it. I sighed, but instead rubbed your head and talked to you about the day you were born.
Once your bottle was gone, I placed it on the table next to the chair in which we were sitting, hoping you would remain nestled close to me for just a few more minutes. But your eyes told me something else - that you were awake and ready to slide down my lap onto the floor to crawl your way into your brother's room to play. I sighed, and instead followed you, smiling at your little self so happily moving into his room to explore, giggling the entire way.
We went to the park together and returned home to rest a bit before the evening began. Although I was by your side as you went down the stairs at home, you demonstrated to me that yes, you were learning how to go down all by yourself. Once you mastered that task, you looked so happy at your accomplishment and showed me with your big, gummy, toothless grin. And once again, I sighed, and found myself marveling at just how quickly you are growing.
Tonight, as I sang you your lullaby before bed, you once again pulled away, ready to be placed in your crib for a sound night's sleep. I sang anyway, but instead of holding you close, I sighed once again and simply rubbed your back until I heard your breath deepen and become rhythmic like a lullaby itself.
Libby, I cried many times today because you are simply growing too fast. I want time to stand still for you. I know it won't and I find myself trying my best to take inventory of every last thing you are doing so I will remember it forever. I pray that I never forget these priceless moments and that my tears of sadness that you are growing faster than I care to admit are overshadowed by my tears of joy that I have no doubt you will bring me time and time again throughout your life.
I love you,