the little girl went to stay with her grandparents while we were in the hospital and when she came home, she was different. she has new words. she calls things “cute.” she saw my birthday earrings and turned my head back and forth saying, “pretty, pretty!” she adds a “y” to everything now – she picked it up from her grandmother’s baby talk. milky. cuppy.
she has new words that she tries to communicate to me and I don’t understand her. I’ve been with her every day for almost a year but three days apart and I couldn’t understand what she was saying.
she’s bigger than I remember. so much bigger next to the tiny little boy we brought home five days ago. his feet are the length of my thumb and hers are the size of my hands. I pick her up and she’s so much heavier than I remember. I snuggle her in my arms and there’s more of her than I remember. she lies across my lap and her feet dangle over my knees.
having a newborn boy makes me miss my tiny newborn girl. I caught myself wanting to have her be a newborn again. just so I could stroke her thick dark baby hair and her fat newborn cheeks and hear her little newborn noises again. to nurse her again. to dress her up her tiny strawberry sleeper again.
but today she’s my little girl again and I’m happy to have her this way. I can hear her new words now and I know what they mean. she doesn’t feel too big anymore. she feels just right.