We wait

There are times as a parent when, as you look at your child, a surge of love bubbles up from your heart and engulfs you.
Maybe the child is expertly executing a new skill, something you taught them, or something they've figured out on their own. You're reminded of how amazing that child is and the the wave comes.
Maybe they're smiling in that way that's all their own or pouting in a manner just as quintessentially theirs. As you witness your child's self-isms you are grateful to be one of those privileged to know this fantastic person well enough to recognize them. And you're washed away.



I see my baby moving through the world, experiencing those things we have to offer her and as the waves come I remember that she is not mine and I choke.

What will I do with all of this knowledge I have gleaned when it's subject is gone?
I type it all out to share with the new mama. There are two reasons for this.
The first is noble. It would be a shame to let all of this useful information go to waste. I want my baby to be happy and teaching her new mama about the life she has here will help the transition to be as smooth as possible.
The second is spiteful. I want that other mama to know that I know this baby. I want her to feel just how much I love her and I want her to hurt just as much as I hurt. I want her to cry over the time she is missing the way I cry over the time I will miss.

I don't want her to overlook any of the cute things the baby does, touching fingers, patting the cabinet door when you ask her to close it and she complies, reaching her arms around her baby head to play "How big is baby?"
I also don't want her taking credit for any of it.
I taught the baby those things. I DID!
Not her.

I hope they come for her soon. This half parenting is crushing me.