almost.

he is almost one. this baby boy that keeps growing, right before my eyes, is now on the cusp of toddlerhood. one and no longer a tiny, helpless being. he is independent, learning new things and becoming more autonomous every single day. but he is not one yet.

he is still my tiny, little, baby boy. i still hold him each night before he goes to bed and i'm the first one he sees each morning. i still nurse him at those times (and only those times) and while i am ready to wean, i am clinging to these last weeks of such a strong bond. if he's not nursing, not eating purees, not being swaddled, not fitting into 3-6 month clothes (retired the last one today), not awkwardly grasping for the simplest of toys...then, what?

i go through different stages these days. one minute i am so excited for what is ahead. walking, playing at the park, talking, doing things on his own. and the very next, on the verge of tears over the idea of him walking away from me, not being small enough to fit into tiny sleepers with animals on the feet, saying NO! all day. i am excitedly planning his first birthday party (two, actually). i am feeling anxious over his first birthday, a whole year from when i met first him. i grapple with no longer having a little baby that people say "oh, so tiny!". that i dressed in sweet little clothes made for preemies. that i nursed 12 times a day. that i can barely remember.

his tiny mewing cries are now loud and the house is filled with his screaming. he is alert, active, and ready for more life. his once quiet breath has turned into babbling and laughing. he is so much more fun to be with, to play with...and yet i am sad to leave my baby behind.

clearly, he can't believe it either ;)

i imagine the next time i post, finley holden will be a whole year old. and i'll either be laughing and playing with my big boy or crumpled in a heap on the floor of his nursery thinking about those early days, trying to remember every bit of them before more years pass.