*She started crawling (really, a glorified army scoot) mere days ago, then just took off like a rocket. She is super fast, y'all. The child can go from one room to the next like speed lightening. (It still shocks me that she mastered pulling up before crawling. in.sane.)
*Her first tooth broke through on Friday of last week, followed by her second tooth on Sunday. (Her motto, "go big or go home!" when it comes to teething. What ev. She's a horrid teether, so I encourage extra effort to bring forth more teeth at a time.)
*She's mastered the art of going from a crawling position to a sitting position. (she's been a master of the sitting to crawling position for a while. I call it the "lung" position. She often times hurls her body towards the direction in which she wants to go.)
*She confronted her
*She started waving. (Not consistently, but who can really make a baby do things on command?!?)
All these things occurred with in a 10 day span. I know I should be thrilled she's thriving, and I am. I'm glad she's healthy, and on target with development. However, I'm completely crushed that she's growing up. Before she mastered movement, I could just pretend that she's still a tiny baby. She is, in fact, still swaddled at night. She didn't crawl, and she was content to hang out on mommy's hip. She's gaining independence.
I have always loved the baby stage. I've also have always been one to grieve the loss of my kids' infancy. (as an aside, I'm convinced that people who say "oh, I don't get sad about them growing up. I'm excited for what's ahead" are just not baby people. You can't be a baby person and not be a teensy bit sad when your kiddos get out of that season of life.) It just seems so wrong that she's my last. I don't want to be done with babies. I DON'T WANNA!
ahem. sorry for the outburst. As you can see, I'm not entirely at peace with our family's current decision to be finished having children. I'm still praying for that peace.
In the meantime, I'm digging my heels into the proverbial ground, and holding onto Eliza tight. Wishing her to stay a baby for just a teeny, tiny, bit longer. Pretty please.