Once my baby, Always my baby.

The legs that once barely reached my naval now dangle well below my hips.

I can no longer cradle her in one arm.

Her eyes that once burned through mine while she sleepily drank a 2oz bottle now rarely meet mine while she eats pizza.

The feet that once kicked my ribs and bladder now tap dance on my kitchen floor.

I no longer need to rock her to sleep in a dark bathroom with the exhaust fan running.

The hair that once only skimmed her scalp actually had to be trimmed.

....and I'm ok with it.

I'm ok with it because the arms that once cradled her small newborn body are now what she runs into when she's happy or scared.

I'm ok with it because even though we may not lock eyes while she eats, her little hand rubbing my arm while we watch TV makes me realize how small she still is.

I'm ok with it because she can now fall asleep on her own because we taught her how.

I'm ok with it because she asks to hold my hand.

I'm ok with it because every now and then she tries to pull her legs up into that squishy newborn position while I hold her.

I'm ok with it because she needs me as much as I need her.