While I will not miss the frequent night wakings – not one little bit – I will miss Ella being so excited to see me when I get back from work that she grabs my face and tries to eat it.
I’ll miss the funny little cooing garbledy sounds she makes before she learns how to talk properly.
I’ll miss the way she falls asleep while I’m breastfeeding and I carry her floppy little conked out body to her crib.
I’ll miss the way her eyes light up when she sees her brother or her dad… they’ll still light up when she’s older, I know, because Arty still gets so excited when his dad comes home. But there’s this delicious disbelief in her eyes at this age – a kind of, ‘you’re here! I love you so much! What a bonus!’
I’ll miss putting her in one place and having her stay there (a lot).
I’ll miss her absolute wonder at her toes.
I’ll miss the way she sticks her tongue out when she’s delighted.
I’ll miss her ridiculously chubby thighs: fat roll upon fat roll upon fat roll.
I’ll miss how I can make everything better just by picking her up: that being in Mom’s arms is the cure for all ills.
I’ll miss her first attempts at hugs – arms round my neck, snuggling in.
I’ll miss her snuffles when she sleeps.
I’ll miss her being so sweet, and so stable – not like the inevitable ups and downs of toddlerhood that lie ahead.
I’ll miss my little baby.