Am I Marge Simpson?

Okay, yes, that is a ridiculous title! But this episode of the Simpsons keeps coming to my mind-Marge is sad because Bart and Lisa are growing independant of her so she goes to check on baby Maggie. Maggie is asleep and doesn't need her either, so she pokes Maggie until she wakes up and cries, then Marge can pick her up and comfort her. Yes, that is a pretty blatant display of codependency and whole college courses could be taught on the unhealthy family dynamics of the Simpsons (in fact I think there are some college courses on the Simpsons!) However, when I first saw that episode, probably several years ago, I laughed and thought it was funny, but now-sadly-I can relate to it!

This week I was almost in tears as I put my baby to sleep. Which is odd, because normally I'm very happy to put her to sleep. But this time she had dropped a feeding and a nap, so she is only nursing every four hours now and taking three naps a day instead of four. What that means is I feed her around 7:30pm, then she is up for another hour or so, and then I put her down for the night. So on Monday, I read her a story, sang her a song, and laid her down in her crib. She looked at me for a moment, eyes wide, and then turned her head and went to sleep. Every other night since she was a baby (Ha! I know she is still a baby!) I've nursed her right before she goes to sleep, she would normally fall asleep while eating (Yes, I know "they" say not to do that, but I only did it at her night feeding, so "they" can kiss my. . .oh wait. . .I mean I respecfully disagree) and then I would lay her down. With the exception of the ninety five degree days which made nursing a four month old baby incredibly uncomfortable, those moments at night were precious and I treasure them. That night I came downstairs and looked at Bard with sad eyes because it seems like every time I turn around, my baby is growing up in some new way. And while that is exciting, the constant process of letting go is just a bit heart breaking.

Remember in Father of the Bride when she tells her dad that she is getting married? He looks at her and sees a little girl in pig tails saying, "Daddy, I met a man in Rome and I'm getting married!" He can't quite understand how this seven year old could be talking about getting married because he doesn't quite believe that she has grown up. I get that. And last night as my daughter lay in her crib, falling to sleep on her own, part of me wanted to reach out and poke her, then scoop her up in my arms and rock her to sleep. But I didn't. I let go.