Loss

I've been up late tonight reading. It's an interesting book called "Narratives from the Crib," edited by Kathleen Nelson. The King County Library System was kind enough to do an inter-library loan from Central Washington University for me, and now I see why. Turns out, it's a research summary. I have no idea where I first heard of the book, but it's been on my reading list for some time.

Parts of it are difficult and I find myself skimming at times. But at other times, it's really interesting to see how they attempt to learn from recordings made as the young (2 years old) lay in bed talking after she had been put in her crib.

Rachel still talks some nights, which is apparently rare. But as I read these early monologues from the 2-year-old, I really wish I had recorded some of those early conversations. I feel like I am already missing out, forgetting things that were not captured at the time. Pieces of Rachel's life have passed me by and are gone forever.

As we get closer and closer to Ben's arrival, tonight I'm really struck by the fact that something else will soon be lost as well. My relationship with Rachel will change. No longer will she be my only child and no longer will she be the only one for whom I am "daddy."

This makes me incredibly sad, to the point of tears as I type this (it's also nearly 2 in the morning and I'm starting to finally get tired, so that may be also partially responsible.)

I look forward to Ben's arrival with impatient anticipation, but I also see it as a loss. To be sure, there will be plenty of opportunities for future daddy-daughter days, she will always be my first child, and I will always love her more than my own life, but it feels like a change. She will continue to grow up and become more and more her own person. Her love for me will change and evolve (but hopefully remain strong.)

She's not even four and already I'm wishing she could stay little forever. (Of course, I feel guilty about that, too.)