"Home is the place where, when you have to go there, they have to let you in."

-- Robert Frost

Saturday, February 20, 2010

separation anxiety

I'm experiencing some serious separation anxiety. It's not that she is clingy or can't live without me but quite the other way around.

This weekend, Newel is away and so I break protocol and stay up late. The house gets quiet and dark and I pull Eliza out of her usual sleeping spot in the bassinet and tuck her into bed right beside me as I read. She's tired and just lays there looking up at me all cozy with her blanket. She's into reaching out to feel things and silently keeps touching my arm and trying to get my cheek. I can't help but stop what I'm doing and talk with her which elicits such sunny yet sleepy smiles that my heart hurts. Inside I'm dying. I know this is it, the end of an era but I tell myself to freeze this moment and just remember every detail of it so I can bring myself back to this point when one day in the future I want to remember. But sadly I know when I look back I'll not be able to see or feel this as clearly as I'd like. What will I do when I don't have a baby anymore -- when there are no more babies -- when there are no more moments like these? It hurts.

Eliza ate her first jar of sweet potatoes this week and fairly slurped it down begging for more. The kids were thrilled and each wanted a turn to feed her this new delight. I'd forgotten her need for more in my selfish desire to keep her closer to me.

Grant and I took a trip one afternoon to the store and forgoing the baby seat, sat our new upright girl in the cart surrounded by her blankets. Grant danced around the cart singing "look at her now!". I was secretly happy when she grew tired of the arrangement and I deemed it just a little too soon to leave the baby seat behind.

The ringing phone, the computer access, or just the common gathering that takes place in my bedroom, interrupts Eliza's much needed naps and necessitates that the crib finally be brought out from the basement. This weekend, I've given in and started the process. The girls are ecstatic though I keep reminding them that I may or may not actually put her in there.

And so separation anxiety continues. I'll probably cry at the first sign of a tooth and wail when crawling turns to walking, I'm not proud. I just need a forgetful mind to remember and cling to this moment right here, right now and never forget how much I have loved and will miss this.

1 comment:

  1. Or....you just need triplets! ;) (but I do know what you mean...)