This weekend I think Cora hit the end of a growth spurt. She had been eating everything she could get her hands on for about two weeks and then, this weekend, spent a lot of time sleeping. Her naps went longer than usual and she got tired sooner. I remember going through these spurts when she was just a little thing but had kinda forgotten about them. So, Saturday, when she slept until almost 8:00 that morning (instead of her usual 6:00am) I actually woke in a minor panic. I was suddenly scared of going into her room – afraid of what I might find there. I actually thought about waking hubby up and making him go do it. But I talked myself back into the realm of sanity and tip toed in.
Cora was just stirring and gave me a huge smile when I walked in. Phew! Then it turned into a great day! Mommy got to sleep in and she had a happy baby when she awoke. But as I came down off my “scare” I remembered back to those early days of staring at the video screen of the monitor to check and make sure she was still breathing. I remembered creeping into a sleeping baby’s room in the wee hours just to “check”. I remembered the terror filled manner in which I woke up the first night Cora slept through the night – I was just sure the worst had happened. I had almost forgotten those fears in the span of just a few short months.
As I got Cora up and dressed I thought to myself “I am so glad those days of worrying so severely are all but over”. But as I got to thinking deeper on it over the past couple of days I realize they’re not close to over; they are more likely just beginning. It seems to me they will probably not stop for… well… forever. It will always be something.
She will be 5 years old and going to swimming lessons. She will be 8 years old and going to the amusement park for the first time. She will be 12 years old and going to the mall “by herself” for the first time. She will be 16 and driving. She will be 18 and off to college. She will be 22 and moving into her own place. She will be 30 and about to give birth to her own little one. And I will be worrying.
I’ve finally realized what my mom meant when she told me “you never stop worrying about your babies”. She didn’t mean babies in the physical sense. She meant once you accept that little pink or blue bundle into your arms your duty as a constant sentinel and bodyguard starts – and it doesn’t stop until you do.