It's been in the back of my mind ever since I was pregnant with her, but it really just hit me yesterday. I've given birth to my last baby, and if that weren't bad enough, she's not much of a baby anymore. Sure, she still drinks from a bottle, and she can't walk, yet, but that's about all that still exists from her infancy. They prepare you for postpartum depression, but no one warns you about post last baby depression.
I took Victoria to the movies yesterday to see the new Disney princess movie. The embarassing thing is part of what triggered this onset of sadness was a preview for a Miley Cyrus movie, of all things. It's some silly teeny bopper movie but part of it was about her relationship with her dad. I looked over at Victoria and realized that one day she would be a 16-year-old girl and would no longer want to do things like go to the movies with me. Then my thoughts turned to Sophie and how she was growing up so fast already, with her 1st birthday fast approaching.
I haven't been able to climb out of this funk, and my sadness culminated today when I cleared off the twin bed in her room in preparation for its disposal. This is the bed that Trevor once slept in when it was his room. We kept it even after transforming it into a nursery so that I would have a place to rest with the baby during those initial sleepless nights. It turned into our joint bed where we co-slept for her first 6 months or so. I packed up her bottle warmer and threw away a pacifier that she hasn't taken in months. Dismantling it just further proves that she's no longer the tiny baby that needs me in the middle of the night. For the most part, she has been sleeping through the night, and for those nights that she wakes, a quick bottle puts her right back out- no cuddling needed. So I'm listening the The Cure's "Pictures of You" while typing this, trying not to cry my eyes out.
And as further proof that she's growing up way too fast, here are pics of her indulging in her new habit...
