to pack away the special newborn items forever.
for my baby to crawl across the floor like she's desperately trying to do.
to not smell that newborn head again for a LONG time.
to no longer practice my swaddling skills.
to not have a baby to snuggle in with for the night
YaYa (as Buddy calls her) is growing up. And so reality is hitting. She's not a newborn any more. She's seven months old. And so this week I've been sorting through items. Trying to have my heart be ok that she may be the last baby. It's been a rough week for sure.