A Poem for Phoebe at Four Months

For Phoebe, Four Months

Was she ever that small? Was she ever that little?

She was

she had to be

because suddenly 

her clothes don’t fit and she’s squished in her car seat and someone comments on how

Big

she’s gotten.

But to you, Mama, she’s still small.

It doesn’t even occur to you that she’s grown until the onesie

won’t fit over her head.

Then you realize

she’s no different to you because you see her every day. But she has grown.

The memories of her as a soft little newborn are fading.

                (But it’s only been four months.)

Wait…

It’s been four months?

The vivid memory of birth was 120+ days ago?

You’ve been a Mama that long?

No…

Not possible.

But look at THAT newborn baby. Your baby isn’t like that anymore.

She’s grown.

And I suppose it’ll be like this forever, won’t it, Mama?

With that startled look on your face when someone says, She’s grown!

(She seems the same to me every day. Though I suppose it must be true, she’s grown…because these little shoes that once were so big don’t fit on her feet

anymore.)

But truly she’s not growing up. No, she’s still The Baby. 

You have all the time in the world with her as a baby.

Wait…! She’s grown…

And now you see.

Your days are short.

She doesn’t stop growing. 

You just stop remembering how little she once was.