Not a Baby Anymore
Her Bad Mother put out the call for words to express our physical love for our babies.
While I honestly don’t think I have words to do the topic justice (everything I try to write sounds trite to me), I thought I’d reflect on how our physical relationship has changed as Cakes moves from baby to toddler.
When she was very little we would nap together, her on my chest, skin on skin, my heart swelling with a visceral need to be close to hers.
We would lie together for hours—she sleeping peacefully, warmed by my body, me trying desperately not to wake her, savouring the moment.
Now that she’s, gulp, becoming a toddler, we don’t have those moments anymore. She has not liked to be cuddled for a long time. I miss it so much.
We find other ways to be physical together though: her little hand reaches for mine when she gets to the deep end of the pool; we play roughhousing, rolling together gleefully on the floor; I kiss her all over her chubby little body, labelling her parts as I go; I stroke her hair, smell her, squeeze her, love her.
She is a part of me; I need to be close to her. I can't get enough of her.