Mommy guilt! My baby isn't THE baby anymore

Last night, while I was strolling, that thing that second time moms warned me about set in.  You know, the thing.  The sudden, tear inducing Mommy guilt thing.

Not that it hadn't dawned on me at any point in the last 7+ months that I'd be rocking my little nug's world when this little guy enters it.  Of course I knew that.  Of course I felt bad about it.  But last night, it really HIT me.  The worst part?  I can't exactly pinpoint what exactly I feel guilty about.  The nug has had 2.5 years of undivided attention, and I'm not really worried about the baby garnering more attention than her.  Sure, people will oo and ah, "look at the baby, look at the baby (thought out in my best Vince Vaughn impression)," but she'll undoubtedly get lots of big sister attention. Not to mention, from my experience, people are kind of scared of little babies.  They're more secure in talking to and playing with toddlers than they are with newborns.  I'm not nervous she'll feel less loved, I'm not remotely anxious she'll be upset about staying with her grandparents a few days (she stays with them all the time), and I don't think she'll feel angry, left out, or put out by his presence.  She's a pretty independent kid, and nurturing to boot, so I think, for the most part, she'll enjoy doting on him.

So what IS it?  I guess I'm not really sure.  I think it has something to do with feeling like I'm replacing her in the baby category.  I'll explain, since I'm sure that doesn't make sense.  I don't mean that I feel like she will feel replaced, or that any baby could replace, well, any other baby.  I think I just mean that in having this baby, I'm finally admitting she's not a baby anymore.   For over two years we would often refer to her in passing as THE baby.  "Do you have THE baby's bottle/sippy cup?" "Did you feed THE baby breakfast?" "How did THE baby sleep last night?" Not only can we not refer to her as a baby, we can't refer to her as THE baby.  It's understood now, even before he's here, that when we say THE baby, we're now talking about him, not her.  It hurts to even write that.  Without her knowledge or consultation, my baby officially became a big girl.  I know this would happen whether or not he was coming.  How long can you refer to a walking, talking, child as THE baby?  But realizing tonight that it's been months since any of us as referred to her as the baby, well, it just stings a little.

I was never one to rush my baby into childhood; I could never relate when other Moms seemed to be in a rush for their babies to be kids, pushing them to walk before they were ready or swearing they were speaking in full sentences by the age of 9 months.  Of course, it's the desired outcome of having babies that they grow into children, and that those children grow into adults, and so on; I just assumed it was going to happen fast without any help from me, so I didn't push.  It's just that, even knowing that, I wasn't really prepared for the reality of how fast it was going to go.  As I grow closer to giving birth a second time (God willing and the creek don't rise),  I can't help but reminisce over and over again about the day I gave birth to Cam.  It was honestly amazing.  I'm not an earthy person who found my zen in giving birth...I was lucky it was very fast (it hurt like Hell, but was over with quickly).  When she was born I don't recall crying with joy or having any great epiphany, but I was ecstatic....I had my little girl!  I got a quick glance at the peanut I'd been harboring for 38 weeks before they took her for her Apgar tests and first bath.  I remember calling out to my husband through my teeth chattering (tiny bit of post delivery shock- totally normal), asking him to make sure she had 10 fingers and 10 toes.  It wasn't until just a little while later, when I finally got to really snuggle her, that I realized just how special this Mommy thing was.  Her huge brown eyes staring up into mine, I just knew she was my little soul mate.  I was absolutely meant to be hers, and she was absolutely meant to be mine.  Every struggle, big or little, I'd ever gone through was to get me to that minute.  I've never doubted it a moment since then.. I'll always be hers, she'll always be mine.

But somehow she's gotten big on me.  She's not that itty bitty baby with the big eyes gazing up at me, as though I'm the only person in the world.  She's found she enjoys plenty of time with other people, happy to shoo me away so she can play with her friends at school or so she can go out and have fun with any number of people that are not me.  I just didn't expect it to happen so soon.  I thought I had a good couple of years left of her clinging to my leg, only ever wanting Mommy and giving an earful to anyone trying to appease her when I'm not there.  I know it sounds pretty bad to say that; the rational part of me absolutely knows that it's a great thing that she is independent, and social and doesn't need to hide behind my knees in public.  I should also note she's hardly dissociative with me...she loves her some Mommy snuggles when we're at home, and there are some times where only Mommy will do, but they're just not nearly as often as they used to be.  Which brings me right back to the fact that she's simply just NOT a baby anymore.

On the bright side of things, she herself isn't too perturbed by not being a baby anymore.  As a "big girl" she has more freedom.  She gets to swim in the intermediate pool with Daddy, go on some rides by herself, and has more fun on the playground without Mommy following her onto the bouncy bridge.  She likes being called the "big girl."  She especially likes being called the "big sister."  I'm not sure she knows what that means yet, but she knows there is a baby coming.  She pets my tummy, kisses my popping belly button, says everyone must "do nice" by the baby and tells people about her baby brother in Mommy's belly.  While this should really make me feel better, it only seals' the deal on my daughter's closing chapter on babyhood.  You know, the babyhood I was in no rush to leave behind.

Although I might be a bit dipped in sadness at the nug's seemingly sudden shot into childhood, the hubs and I are no less amazed or in love with her every day.  Even in the most frustrating moments (and with a 2.5 year old, there's LOTS of those), we seem to find some aspect to be proud of.  If she's pouting or angrily shouting an explanation for something she "wants" (a word we hear a LOT lately), we are amazed by not only the fact that she can explain...at length...why she wants it, but that she has a legitimate thought process behind what she's saying.  Sometimes we catch ourselves being totally played by her, only realizing mid-process that the 2.5 year old has, once again, outsmarted us.  Or take yesterday, when at a Memorial Day BBQ of all adults, not only did she stop them all mid conversation with her rendition of Barney's "I love you" song, but got them to sing along with her....every.single.one of them (think Happy Birthday, minus the cake and candles and led by a 2 year old who's chin was dripping with watermelon juice).


Those are the moments I know I'd do it all over again.  That whether or not I'm ready, time is going to keep moving.  That whether or not any of us are ready, we are going to do it all over again.  And if I'm one of the luckiest people in the world, in two and a half years, I'll still be lamenting how big my daughter has gotten on me...and how my son is suddenly a big kid, too.