the night she lost her paci

hadley's pajamas: burts bees baby | hadley's doll: hazel village

we had just arrived back from the coast, david hauling bags in the doorway, hadley running circles with her sweet voice echoing "yay, home!" over and over, and i slowly but surely putting things back in their rightful place. it was a sunday night, the sun was still up and we breathed a sigh of relief to be back in our one thousand square feet. ahh, home.

we began the rush of whipping up a last minute dinner, pairing a few things that were left over in our fridge with a quick trip to the grocery. as we settled in for our nightly routine, that was when we realized...hadley's pacifier--her "yay" as she calls it--was missing.

retracing our steps, we ended up out in the car, the light of the iPhone guiding our way. nothing. we tore through all the bags, searched every surface, under couch and chair and bed. nothing.

it left us no choice. she had to go without it for this night. most likely it would turn up in the morning.

that night was a difficult one. tears and sobs and deep quick breaths. on top of not having the comfort of the natursutten pacifier (our all time favorite by the way), she refused to listen and obey anything we asked of her.

deep breaths in. grace and peace out. we made it.

morning came and there was still no sign. i went in to wake her and she asked where it had gone, in the softest morning voice. my heart broke a little.

later that afternoon as we were running errands, buckling her into her carseat and kissing her on the forehead as i always do, i saw it. there, wedged between her seat and the middle seat belt just so.

i said nothing. i left it.

it has been almost ten days now without it. my baby girl has gone ten days without her pacifier. and while the practical side of me is rejoicing that this is good and one less thing we need to work on later, the sentimental in me is aching.

i long for the baby girl that barely filled the space between my forearm and elbow. the baby who cooed and was mesmerized by the crosses on the walls of our first apartment. the one who made me a mother, the most important--the most refining--role of my life.

i hold this little girl each and every day, this girl not yet two, still so little, and yet so grown.

and i know that as we hold our new baby soon, my first baby--our hadley--will seem to have grown even more overnight. and i feel as though i am getting my first dose of that right now, the night she lost her pacifier.

and my heart breaks, my heart overflows. and i am learning to let go every day. all over again.