To my little one, as we approach your second birthday.
If only I had known it would be the final moment, I would have captured our last sleepy photo together. You, drifting off just like you always did, eyes half-closed, a soft smile gracing your lips as you focused on nursing. Your tiny hands often clasped together, as if in silent prayer. Occasionally, you’d pause to giggle, share a few words, or start humming a song. Sometimes, you’d simply lean back, content and ready to sleep. Though it always began the same, our cherished routine was about to change.
You are nearly two, and I’m five months pregnant—an exciting time, but also a physical and emotional challenge for me as we navigate this transition. I often found myself wishing for this phase to end, while you seemed blissfully unaware of the changes looming ahead. Then, one day, it just stopped. Our usual routine transformed into a memory without a warning. Had I known, I would have lingered a bit longer, perhaps memorizing every detail of your delicate hands.
Soon, you were falling asleep, not in my arms, but cradled by your father. I stood in the kitchen, tears streaming down my face—not just because you no longer needed me for that, but because it marked yet another ending.
This is it: the start of the lasts. We spent so much time celebrating all your firsts that we overlooked the bittersweet nature of lasts. And they’ve come so swiftly. Though your second birthday is just days away, we’ve already experienced many of these poignant moments.
The last time you giggled like a baby, your laughter now deeper and more robust. Your sense of humor has matured, finding joy in the most unexpected things (a trait you undoubtedly inherited from your dad). I remember the last time you had to sign to communicate your needs before your words flowed freely. Your first sign, “more,” was celebrated with enthusiasm. Then came your first word, “hi,” and suddenly, you were forming sentences. I don’t even recall the last time you signed for something.
The last moment you wanted a stroller ride has also passed. Now, you prefer to walk on your own two feet, determined to do everything by yourself. I can’t even remember the last time I carried you in the baby carrier, a once-necessary tool for our outings. Just like that, another cherished routine faded away.
When will be the last time you ask me to lift you up? Or hold my hand to guide me to show something outside? While I know many firsts await us, it currently feels like we are engulfed in a season of lasts.
Your rapid growth and daily changes often leave me in awe. Each day brings new discoveries, new independence, and moments you no longer require my assistance. It is both exhilarating and heartbreaking. I want nothing more than to see you thrive and learn, yet these fleeting moments slip by so quickly, often unnoticed until they’re gone.
This season of lasts is, paradoxically, still filled with firsts. While I remember the last time you nursed, I also cherish the first time you fell asleep on your own. The final request for a stroller ride has transformed into the first request for a walk. Just as autumn can transition into winter, this period of lasts is also a time of beginnings.
I only wish I had a gentle whisper reminding me to hold on tightly to these moments, as they might be the last. Today, I find myself yearning for your baby giggle and the way you used to nestle into me, your ear pressed against my heart.
What will I long for tomorrow?
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Summary
As we draw near to my toddler’s second birthday, I reflect on the poignant last moments we shared together. From her final giggles of infancy to her newfound independence, these changes evoke a bittersweet mix of joy and heartache. Each day brings new milestones, reminding me that while we celebrate firsts, we also experience significant lasts—an emotional journey I wish I could savor just a little longer.