My little, tiny baby, life goes by so fast that I don’t want to forget.
I want to remember your scent. When you fall asleep in my arms, I close my eyes and take a deep breath of your scent. I think that if I lost my sight, I could recognize you among a million babies—that’s how many times I’ve compulsively inhaled your scent.
Your cheeks are so soft—I rub my nose against them, and in that moment, all you want to do is nurse.
Your gaze that locks with mine while I’m breastfeeding you. Your little hand that you rest on my breast.
I want to remember your clumsy little hands trying to grab my hand or my coffee cup.
Your efforts when your little face, pressed against the living room floor, tries to look at the toys I place in front of you.
Your first attempts to move around a room.
I want to remember your first clumsy steps.
Your first babbling sounds, so sweet to my ears.
The nights spent patting your bottom because your little tummy was bothering you.
Your laughter, so infectious, when I pretend to eat your tummy.
Your excitement when I come to pick you up after your nap or after a good night’s sleep.
I want to remember your funny faces when you try a new food for the first time.
I want to remember… Everything.
Maybe you think I’m a little intense, my little baby, but when you become a parent yourself, the advice I’ll give you is to savor every moment you spend with your little one to the fullest.