In a mere seven days my little boy will be one.

A whole year of life with Wesley is almost here and there is so much I could reflect on and probably will in some form, but today I want to talk about all the little “lasts” we’ve had and will continue to have and how grief is a daily part of motherhood.

I think in life, we often believe that we’ll have ample time to say “goodbye” to things but more often than not, I think things end without us realizing. If we don’t give ourselves space to properly grieve the end of something, I think we carry that around with us.

Grief I think often denotes a large event of sadness, like the death of a loved one. But there are daily, smaller griefs, that I think we’re taught to ignore or not dwell on or perhaps we’re too busy to acknowledge and then they are there, accumulating, and we can’t figure out why we’re feeling so sad. Maybe that’s just me, I can be a little melancholy. But I think it can affect most of us, even if we don’t realize it.

Take for example, the gradual end of a friendship. Nothing dramatic happened, life just drifted you apart until you realize, oh, I guess we’re not really friends anymore. Not that you wouldn’t be polite and kind if you saw that person, but more the shift from, “this was someone I could call any time for anything and now they’re not.” And it’s okay because life happens and people change and maybe you don’t live near anymore, but it’s still sad. There’s still loss. You can still grieve what was and let it go.

Maybe it’s something even smaller, like your parents selling your childhood home. Perhaps you feel foolish for being sad about it but it’s not. It’s normal. That place holds memories, good and bad, and it’s an crucial part of who you are. If houses weren’t important, Miranda Lambert wouldn’t have written a song about it, okay. Grieve the loss. You’re allowed to feel how you feel.

For moms, there are even smaller but no less important losses. Things that will never be again. Things like, the last time your child will have the moro reflex. Or the last time you nurse. The last time your child wobbles when he walks. They are small, tiny, seemingly insignificant things but they are still the end of things; the closing of a chapter.

So here I am, a week before Wesley’s birthday, oscillating between preparing for his birthday celebration and grieving what we’re leaving behind. It’s a tension that I’m getting used to; I think it’s just parenthood — balancing the delight in watching your children grow while also saying goodbye to who they were. I think this is a part of motherhood I wish people talked about more. I’m less interested in how your baby is sleeping or how to “bounce back” or any of those usual topics. I wish people normalized this daily grief and how to process it in a healthy manner.

And maybe it’s simple. Maybe all we need to do is acknowledge it.

So that’s what I’m going to practice this week, acknowledging any sadness and grief I have that my little baby boy is no longer a baby and is daily becoming more and more independent. I don’t need to wallow in it. I don’t need to rue it. I just need to say, this is sad and it makes me weep a little but man on man is he becoming the coolest little kid. I loved being a mom to a baby. It was such a gift. I’m also thankful I get to be a mom to a toddler.