It’s the inevitable conversation starter every time we go out.
“Oh how Adorable; how old?”
(now their eyes look as though they are surely going to pop out of their head”
“Oh my he’s a big boy.”
Then starts the.. I grew fast and his daddy grew fast blah blah. It’s not like I am complaining, I have a really REALLY big baby. He’s a chunk but by no means is he overweight. He’s tall and very proportionate and he’s healthy and were so so so blessed. but he’s nonetheless, a BIG BABY.
On the very rare occasion I have found myself wishing he would just slow down already. Were not even half way to a year and I have already forgotten what his little 7lb 9oz body felt like to hold. I say rare occasion because a lot of the time I stop myself from getting to that point of wishing, reminding myself to just be pleased that he is growing. Yes he wasn’t born big. Average and for awhile he actually stayed rather small to the point that I had actually wished he would grow just so that I could get him into his 3 month old clothing. Everyone told us not to buy more than a few days worth of NB outfits but it ended up taking weeks for him to grow out of them. And now here we are; 4 and a half months later and he’s the size of a 1 year old. Coming in now at 18lbs 9 1/2oz.
I go back to the time of me standing in my first dance class. I remember feeling like I didn’t want to come back because of the image I saw in the mirror. I towered over every little girl in my class and although I didn’t know why this bothered me so much I knew I was different. My height insecurities followed me though middle school until High School when the other girls caught up and I finally slowed down. I remember back hand comments made by adults about me needing to act my age when in reality I was, I just never looked it. I remember trying to play in the Mcdonalds play land with cousins and being asked to come out because of my height and I also remember a time where my mother and I walked into fast food joint but stormed out 5 minutes later after two men lurked over my mature 10 year old body.
This insecurity eventually went away and it’s now a distant memory but I would be lying if I said it didn’t take away from my childhood because it did. There were things I should have been able to do but couldn’t. I should have been able to act a certain way but really couldn’t without feeling as though I was doing something wrong and now as a mother of a big baby I fear that my son will face some of the same obstacles.
“I want to hold you forever.” I tell him this every night before bed. I want to hold you and rock you and sing to you till you’re a hundred & I’m no more. It sounds a little strange to some; me wanting to cradle my future adult son and if any of you have ever read the children’s book Love You Forever than these images may be popping into your head as you read.
It was an odd book. The first time I read it, my son was only a few weeks old and I remember thinking to myself “what in the actual F, this is beyond creepy.” But I read it again a few weeks later and sat in a pool of my own tears. It’s now my favorite book to read.
As my baby continues to grow like a weed I sometimes feel like I need to hang on for dear life. I know there will come a day when he no longer wants to be held and rocked and I know there will come a day when I can physically no longer hold and rock him but for both of our sakes I sure hope he doesn’t get too big before he is ready for more independence.
For the time being though I shall bask in these moments, I shall hold on tight, and I shall always be grateful for my growing little boys good health because he is my big perfect baby.