I thought I’d document Tiny’s everything’s more.   I’m the mother who buys baby record books and never writes in them.

I’m painfully aware that she’s my last baby ever. 

That her firsts are my lasts

And oh how quickly her firsts are arriving.

I wonder if one day

I’ll look back and wonder why.

Why didn’t I write about the everything’s
The somethings
The little things

Or will I know
That she’s documenting them herself
In my heart.

That it’s enough to just be here.

I don’t know.

It feels like I’m doing her a disservice.

All the unwrittens.

Maybe it’s not that I don’t want to document everything

But more that I don’t need to.

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