My little babe is only four and a half months old and already I am feeling the tug at my heart as he grows and moves, ever so slowly, away from being my little babe.

The most recent tug was last night as Aaron and I were packing suitcases to come back to the States. We had all of our bags packed, only to realize that we still had a huge heap of stuff we wanted left over. The only solution was to empty it all out again, sort through, and make more choices.

In one bag I had all of Ewan’s baby clothes, all the tiny little things that he has already outgrown. Little onesies and miniature socks. Little things that have tell-tale spit-up stains. Little things that don’t fit him anymore. I am surprised at how sad I got just looking at those tiny little things, remembering how small he was before, and how big he is now. But it really made me cry as I ever-so-reluctantly put some of those tiny little things into the “if we have extra room” pile.

I know that they can be replaced if and when we decide to have a second. I know that it doesn’t entirely make sense to move gross, stained onesies across the great wide ocean. My mind knows it, my heart is having a hard time getting on board.

I guess this is just the beginning of letting go. I know it is our job as parents to put ourselves out of a job, raise him so that he is independent and confident and doesn’t need us anymore, but I didn’t think that it would start so soon. And I just don’t know if I am ready for it.

I guess it is wise to start with the onesies, learn how to let those go, and work upwards as time progresses. Good thing I get to start with tiny steps.