Life as a New Mom: Ma-Ma Edition

It took eight-and-a-half months, but it finally happened. I had gotten out of bed around 2:30am to feed and console a crying Dolores. I lumbered my way into the nursery in full zombie mode and reached down in the crib to pick up my daughter.

And then it happened: she lifted her teary eyes to look at me and said, "Ma-Ma," as she reached her tiny arms up.

It was the most beautiful word I have ever heard.

Ma-Ma.

I picked her up and held her close to me. She was fed, and then I rocked her back to sleep. As her eyes began to shut, she wiggled closer to me and said it again, but this time it was more a contented sigh than a cry for help.

Ma-Ma.

After getting Dolly back in her crib, I went into the bathroom and cried. It was a mixture of intense happiness--I've been waiting since the day she was born to hear those words--and  inexplicable sadness. I imagine all milestones are this bittersweet--you're beaming with pride for your child's accomplishments and advancements, yet a tiny part of your heart grieves for what is left behind.

I talked with my mother about weaning Dolly this weekend. Dolly is ready--she can use a sippy cup like a pro--but I'm not. Weaning means no more bottles. No more bottles means my baby is all grown up. I'm not ready for that! It seems like only yesterday that she was a tiny five-pound baby who wanted to nurse around the clock and always fell asleep on my shoulder, a drowsy little cherub in her "preemie" size sleepers.

Now she's a big girl. She's all over the place. She crawls, she literally runs in her walker, she can say "Da-Da," "Ba-Ba (bottle)," "Ball," "Hi," and now... "Ma-Ma."

I like the sound of that last one.