Crawling.

Where has the time gone?

It feels like yesterday, on the 1st snow of the season, that my sweet Eliana was born. The day I sat in bed staring at her beautiful face, nursing her, promising myself that I was going to embrace every second I have with her.

Now, 8 months later, I can honestly say that I have kept my promise. I know that she may possibly be my last child and I want to be able to look back and remember every second of her infancy.

Last night something happened.

My sweet little baby started crawling.

This is a bittersweet moment for me. I am happy that she is reaching developmental milestones but it also scares me to no end. Not because I now have to hide cords, relocate breakables, and constantly sweep the floors and vacuum the rugs. It scares me because it means she is actually growing up. It means that one day, not too long from now, she will no longer want to snuggle and nurse while we watch America's Got Talent. She will no longer smile then shyly hide her face in my armpit in the presence of a stranger. It means that she will soon be too big to take a bath in the kitchen sink. It means I have to except the fact that she will not be a baby forever.