Yesterday I decided to make the most of the wintery spring weather and I set to organising. It broke my heart.
All those tiny little suits with tiny little labels and super tiny little arm holes. All those beautiful sleep suits which once housed my tiny girl. As tiny as doll’s clothes… no use to us now.
In the end, it wasn’t really about the clothes. It wasn’t about the hat that doesn’t fit and the dress that’s too short. It wasn’t about the carefully selected going home outfit that was once too big and is now too small. It wasn’t about any of that. It was about saying goodbye to the newborn baby.
Each day that passes, it is amazing to see the new facial expressions and to feel a deeper understanding of who my daughter is. But that doesn’t mean I don’t miss her being tiny, being new.
Why didn’t I take footprints when she was so tiny? How could I have forgotten the way she only opened one eye for her first three days on earth? How could I have moved on from the tiny, tiny syringe feed she enjoyed in the hospital- how that tiny amount of milk had satisfied her… Had I really forgotten these things? Of course not. Each memory we’ve made so far has been etched deep inside. Not gone. Not forgotten.
And so we move on. The baby is no longer a newborn. Her clothes are redundant and ready to pass on. Is it ok if I shed a small tear as I wave them goodbye? I promise I will then look to the future. 0-3 months here we come.