When did she get so big?

Six? Really? Already? When did that happen? I remember the night that she was born, a month early, the day before I planned to go camping “because I wasn’t sleeping anyway”. Yep, our little girl, 6 pounds 2 ounces and so noisy. She didn’t like to be touched or moved. She was a silly, squeaky baby. I thought that being a mom would come naturally and easily. I thought that things like feeding my baby “the natural way” would be just that easy, like snapping my fingers. I had no idea that 36 week gestation  babies don’t suck very well and that it would take months til we finally had the whole nursing thing figured out. Oh boy.

My sister once said that, after having more kids and looking back on the raising child number one, she often wondered how the first one survived. I wonder that too. Poor Jessica. I look back and wonder how many times she was hungry (I tried to demand feed with a slight leaning towards a schedule) but she cried a lot at bed time. Looking back as a more experienced mom, she probably wouldn’t have cried as much under my care now. I’m better at solving their problems now, about understanding what’s really wrong.

Reading back at what I’ve just written, that sounds like I’m super mom now. I’m not. I’m really not. Every day I wish I would have done about half of the day better. My hope is that I’m better at being a mom now and that in 10 years, I’ll be a better mom then. I wont do what I’ve always done, I wont just hope that I’ll get there, I’ll work harder every day to be the better Mom that they deserve, to be the best mom my (now) 6 year old  deserves.

And, I sure love our big girl. She gets better with every year.


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