I am sad that C is turning two in two weeks. Of course I am; every parent is sad that their children are growing up.

But I’m not sad because I want her to stay a baby. Let me make this super perfectly clear: I want C to grow up. I want her to achieve milestones. I am glad that she can now walk and speak in entire sentences. I am glad that she brushes her own teeth (sort of), and I look forward to the day that she is potty trained.

Being sad that she is growing up doesn’t mean not wanting her to grow up.

It means being sad that I won’t get to do it again. I miss her tiny baby fingers not because I want her to have them still but because they will be the last tiny baby fingers of any baby I get to have.

I am not sad for her, I am sad for me. And that’s ok.