Holding

When we were getting ready for the arrival of The Bubby, I know that I was mentally preparing myself for a big hard terrible slog.

My reasoning was that if I prepared myself for the worst, I could only be pleasantly surprised or I could be right - either way, it's a win.

I probably don't need to articulate in this post just how much of a dream baby The Bubby has been.

When I have taken her out shopping and had her in the pram, only a few times now, I find myself missing her.

When we went to family tea after my trip to Sydney, I didn't want my mum to hold her because I hadn't really 'seen' her much that day, and I wanted a turn.

I found there are times when I almost physically ache to hold her - I see her and I need to feel her in my arms. Or when she is in the carrier, I can't help but wrap my arms around her - she is already pretty damn close, but I just want to hold her closer.

I feel bad and/or sad that I don't remember feeling this way with The Toddler when she was younger.

I don't know if it's because she completely exceeded my expectations, or because she seems so much like me, or because I know she will be the last and every last of hers is my last too. But it's the first time I've really 'gotten' that quote about how your children are pieces of your heart on your outside.

I feel it when I look at The Bubby, when I walk in to her room and her face lights up and she throws her arms up in anticipation of being picked up. I feel in when I The Toddler leans in to my neck for a hug, or gets excited about 'the sun is up!' or she laughs with The Husband while he stirs her.

I am so lucky to have both of my girls.