When They Aren't Babies Anymore...

When they aren't babies anymore, you tend to let out a sigh of relief.
They no longer need you to eat or sleep.
Nap time isn't a struggle, D2 pops into my room and kisses my head. 33 weeks pregnant, and I'm the one who needs naps.

In the morning she wakes up on her own and I stir, I remember my baby who would climb on top of me and drool on my face. She would blabber about being hungry, pull at my nightgown for the breast. I'd be forced to get up, unless I wanted to wake up to a mess.
Now, instead, I hear her wake up and run into the playroom. Her sister follows her silently, they close the door over.
I get up, and the house is quiet. They're playing in their room, they're dressed. Cups of water sit on the table and the sink is wet from them washing their faces. My heart swells with pride. They did that? One less thing to think about. But, I am thinking about it. Behind the joy is a bit of sorrow, my babies have recently turned 4 and 6 and they aren't babies anymore. 

Motherhood is hard in the beginning. You are the universe for that tiny baby, it's overwhelming. You don't sleep unless they are, you can't eat unless they have. It's a major adjustment, and the thought of independence regained in a few years time gets you through it.

Then that time comes, and it comes all too fast. I spent the first 6 years of D1's life teaching her to be the big sister, the eldest, the wise one. I taught her how to take care of herself, to be patient when I was with her little sister. She was hurled into being a 'big girl' much sooner than D2. I look at her now, she can make a sandwich, she turns on the bathroom light for her little sister. 'Put on your underwear' she reminds her. It makes me proud, but it hurts. She loves to exclaim 'I am D1 and my father is (Baba) and I am a Saudi-Canadian.' She has an identity and owns it. She's a talkative and friendly little girl, sensitive yet logical. This year she'll go to school, she'll make friends and assert more independence. She'll come home with stories of her day, things I wasn't there for. Problems I wasn't there to solve. Joy I couldn't share. She'll not be a baby anymore.

D2 is independent whether I like it or not, she bounces from room to room collecting her toys without me asking. She helps me set the table before Baba comes home. She tells me her nails need to be cut and that she wants her hair done so she can go play. I remember her baby-talk as if it were yesterday, but she randomly runs into the room with full sentences, stories, and ideas. 'Hey, Mom. We can go shopping, we can make dinner together and get some ice cream. Yallah, mama.' Yes. We could. How many years did I wait to hear what was actually going on in her little head, the frustration on her face turning into full blown tantrums. At the time I wanted to scream, too. Now I know she just wanted to play, have her hair brushed, get some ice cream. She tells me. English? Arabic? Both? She's not a baby anymore.

Cherish the baby days. I'm embracing them this time. D3 will have the full baby experience, and I will still have hard days. I will probably still have to cry in the bathroom when I haven't slept enough, wish someone else could change her diaper while Baba is at work. Then I'll look at the other two, sigh, remind myself that it'll be over and the stress I feel is nothing compared to the sadness when this is all over.

I still let them in the family bed, feed them with my hands, cut their food. I still hold them and kiss their aches and pains away. I am desperately holding on to my babies. The tears flood my eyes, every time.
They wipe them away.