Be Still, My Heart

Today she wears my favorite dress. I tell her it has cherries on it, but she insists that they are apples. She puts her hands on her hips as she tells me this, so stubborn and strong with her opinions.

She turns three next month. Her hair is long enough to braid. She hasn't nursed in six days.


Last night, she tells me that she doesn't want to sleep in Mommy and Daddy's bed anymore. She makes herself a comfy bed out of pillows and blankets on the floor. She falls asleep without nanas or constant cuddles, just a kiss on the cheek and a goodnight hug like the big girls do.

It's going way too fast for me.

Halfway through the night she wakes up. Mommy, I don't want to be a big girl anymore. Can I sleep next to you?

I wake up in the morning with her little arm thrown around my neck, her hair smelling like sunshine. She's still my baby, but for how long?

Please don't let this moment end.

Be Still, My Heart