It’s official, Zara started crawling today. Just a day before turning eight months, her struggles and efforts have paid off and she finally moved forward towards her chosen toy. She was over the moon, but I must admit, it’s bitter sweet for me. I’m delighted for her, that she won’t feel so frustrated. It’s genuinely wonderful to see her bubbly little personality flourish. At the same time, it’s a sad realisation that my last baby is a little baby no more.
Which brings us to the next upsetting milestone – the bars have to go on, turning the cot from a co sleeping cot into a “big girl cot” that she can’t escape from. Yes, it is for the best, and is essential if I ever want to leave the room while she’s asleep & know she’s safe. Still, another portion of our lives are done. I have loved having her bed attached to mine, being able to roll her into my arms so easily when she needs me. Yes, I know she will still be the same distance from me. Lifting her a little way over the bars to her her in and out is no big deal really. I’m being silly, I do know this, but I can’t help it.
The biggest thing you learn when you have lots of children is how quickly the time goes. No matter how hard I try to savour every second, time still insists upon speeding up.
So I’ll put her down for her last nap in her cot before it becomes a much needed cage and lie next to her. I shall allow myself a short time to feel sad, before giving myself a slap and pulling myself together. When she wakes up, she’ll be that little bit more grown up, and that’s okay.