When my baby’s first milk tooth poked through, I was okay. She was still my baby. When my baby first crawled along our floor, I was okay. She was still my baby. When my baby first reached out toward me and walked across the room, I was okay. She was still my baby. When my baby first waved hello at people at Wong (our supermarket), I was okay. She was still my baby. When my baby first saw bubbles and asked for them by name, I was okay. She was still my baby.
But when my baby first twirled her hair around her finger, shook her head to feel it bounce, pointed to it in the mirror and said “IAELA” (her version of “Micaela”), it brought me to my knees. I look at her now and I wonder: what happened to my baby?
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