I Gave Birth to a Toddler and it Kinda Makes Me Sad

I Gave Birth to a Toddler and it Kinda Makes Me Sad

Ok, so I didn't give birth to an *actual* toddler but I DID give birth to a big baby. The Fox Cub came out at 8 pounds 12 ounces - just 4 ounces shy of being a 9 pounder...that's a pretty decent sized baby. Much bigger it seems than most babies I've run into out and about and in mama meetups. I was out the other day with another mom and we saw a 7 pound baby; "Remember when they were that small?" to which I responded "Nope, mine was never that small!" Ever since then, I can't stop thinking about how I feel sad that I never got a "baby" baby. 

Is this a total bizarre thought? ABSOLUTELY. I feel weird and strange for even talking about it but I literally can't stop thinking about it. When we took the Cub for his 2 day old appointment, another dad thought he was 2 MONTHS old. WHAT?!?! I chalked it up to that father having no perspective since he had a girl and at 8 months, she was only 12 pounds. For your perspective, the Cub at 11 weeks old is now almost 16 pounds. It's expected that a baby will double their birth rate by 6 months and my son has done it in almost half that time. The other day, I met up with a mom friend with a 16 day old baby who asked if she could hold the Cub to see what she had to look forward to. I, in turn, held her son and at 7 pounds, her son was a whisper of a baby compared to my guy. I was shocked by how tiny and small he was! She was wearing one of those amazing shirts that have a pouch in the front to hold baby and I found myself being envious that her son fit so snug inside. 

Super snug in the shirt but also almost grown out of it! Do you like my newest accessory from picking up that cute tush everyday? 

I realize it sounds like I'm fat shaming my baby. I'm not, I swear. I love EVERY. SINGLE. FUCKING. INCH of my baby. Every roll, every crevice, every deliciously nibble-able inch. I realized that I'm not mourning his size; I'm proud I created such a strong, healthy baby. What I'm mourning is time. The Cub is growing so fast...too fast. I feel like I'm going to blink and he's going to be heading off into life on his own. I'm already mourning not being able to snuggle him, not being able to hold him close and keep him safe in my arms. I forget how young he really is because he seems so durable. Do I feel bummed that I'm getting carpal tunnel in my wrist from supporting 16 pounds of dead weight on a daily basis? Sure. Do I hate that I have to think about "lifting from the knees" every time I pick up my son? YUP! Do I wish he was tinier, more pocket sized. Absolutely but only because I want to keep him forever. Him getting bigger means he's getting older, more independent. With every pound he gains he also gains new skills, new abilities that will pull us farther apart. 

Perhaps this is a lesson in motherhood. Perhaps I think that if he'd been smaller, stayed smaller longer that would mean we would have more time together. More time when he needs me for everything. I'm glad that he's growing so well, learning new things, getting smarter. And I have a feeling that years from now, when he's going to kindergarten or college or getting married, I'll still be wishing he was younger and smaller and that we still had more time together, just us two. 

Do you ever feel you need more time with your child? 

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