Today is her last day of being one.  The Papa reminded me.  As midnight approached past evening, a bittersweetness rushed over my body.  The Littlest Babe would no longer be technically a babe.  Her independence has been progressing for the past little while, but part of me has had difficulty letting go.  Although she is the more confident and strong-willed of the two babes, there has recently been an overwhelming desire within my heart to protect and preserve her innocence.  Her clothes and toys have always been loved by others and passed to her.  Her experiences and accomplishments, have been experienced and accomplished before by the Eldest Babe (although she has seemed to meet and pass milestones quicker than her sibling).  I see her at play groups clinging to her sister, mostly because they are the best of friends, but on the other hand, she is all she knows as friend.  This Mama just wants to hold her and wishes she still nursed her.  This Mama wishes she could be her entire source of comfort.  But I can't...and with that realization on the eve of her birth, came sadness.

The overwhelming desire to protect her extends beyond her fragility as second born, but my fragility after her birth.  The story is riddled with memories of my lack of confidence, medical discouragement, potential of loss and physical failure.  It still haunts me.

Luckily, images of her emerging self are stronger.  As a tiny babe, she was of the most serious disposition.  A smile was difficult to acquire.  A laugh seemed to be an impossibility.  She was a winter child.  A move to Montreal was quick on the heels of her arrival.  It was a long last bit of the cold season.  She had never seen the outdoors, nature.  But I remember her awakening.  Slung to my chest, she tilted her tiny head so far back that I feared it would snap.  Leaves.  Birds. Clouds.  Life.

With the spring came the love for her sister.  Her immobile self made it easy for Eldest Babe to capitalize on her big sis position.  She would teach her how to dance in the saucer, cover her head with cotton balls, show her the world.  It was blissful until the release...the release of the Littlest Babe from her sling.  Her personality seemed to release itself as well.

Her kindness overcame her crazies (silly voices, maniacal laughter).  At any moment her Eldest Babe was upset, mostly due to her hesitation to accept the inevitable progression and mobility of her sister - much like myself, this little one would give her anything, do anything to make her happy.  The constant struggle continues, but their play has evolved.  Their friendship overshadows any feeling of hierarchical disruption.


Running into my Arms.


Spinning freely while requesting Mary Poppins.


She has completed her second revolution around the sun.  She has experienced the Earth as fully as she can.  She has felt its warmth.  She has cozied in its cold.  She has known love.  She has laughed.  She has evolved.

As I look into her baby blues, oh so much of her visage reminding me of the man who made her, I see her eventualities, possibilities, potential and imaginings.  Although I want to preserve so much that is so innocent, I must also preserve that which makes innocence...pure experience, pure emotion untainted by Mama's interference.

To my Babe on your birthday,

The Mama


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