Hello, Pushkin

When I was pregnant, a co-worker told me that "being a mother is a series of letting go's." I've been thinking about that a lot lately.

The very first letting go was rather extreme and happened in the delivery room. The next one was later that day when I had to go to the bathroom and I realized that, not only were we not sharing a body anymore, but we were in different rooms for the first time. And then lots of people stopped by to visit and wanted to hold her and help take care of her, so I let go a little more and a little more so that everybody else could be let in.

And then my husband pointed out that I hadn't left Mae's side in three weeks (except to go to the bathroom, of course) and so we left her with my mom and walked down to Swiss Chalet alone where we talked about her the entire time. "Look," I said, pointing to a baby sitting a few tables over. "That baby looks just like an older version of Mae. See? He has the exact same round head." My husband, always so kind, just smiled and nodded, rather than pointing out that pretty much all babies have round heads.

And then, for some reason, the hardest one so far: she outgrew her turtle sleeper. I remember buying that sleeper when I was barely pregnant. I had bad cramping that morning and was convinced I was going to miscarry. I was beside myself with pre-grief and had to do something concrete to convince myself that, yes, this baby was going to make it. So I made my husband come with me to the department store and we picked out the turtle sleeper. It looked so huge then. I couldn't believe that a baby that size could grow inside me.

So it was heartwrenching to say goodbye to it; to fold up its turtley little arms and legs and put it in storage. And I know that the turtle sleeper is just the very beginning. It's nothing compared to the letting go that will be involved when she starts crawling and doesn't need us to carry her everywhere.

Or when I have to go back to work and she has so much fun at daycare without me.

When she learns to read her own bedtime stories.

Goes on her first sleepover.

Starts to keep secrets.

When she has her first date, learns to make her own scrambled eggs, wants her own cellphone, borrows the car, goes off to university and doesn't want to come home for Thanksgiving.

It's all so bittersweet. I'm sad that she's growing up so fast already, but I'm cheering, calling my friends and taking ten million photos because I'm so proud that she's thriving.

And I guess the main thing to remember is that, yeah, one day she'll be all grown up and independent... but today she loves kicking her feet, sometimes smiles if you miow like a kitty and falls asleep in mommy or daddy's arms.

What's the rush to let go when we've still got every second of that left to enjoy?