Gone Baby Gone

Photos of teeny, barely four-pound preemies flash across my computer screen in an endless screensaver slideshow.

What strikes me about these pictures are that I know the two forms are my daughters, but they are not the same. All the parts and pieces have morphed into something different, and I strain my eyes to see a recognizable trait - a dimple in a cheek, or a look in their eyes. Sometimes, only briefly, I can catch one.

Are you lookin' at meh?

In adulthood, we certainly change over the years, but remnants of our prior selves remain. I will sometimes see a person across a room or on the street and recall a familiar face from my past, despite the passing of years, and maturing of our bodies.  

Preemies may have a lot of catching up to do, but my girls didn't waste any time. By 3 months old, they had tripled their birth weight to a sturdy 12 pounds each!

And now, at three and a half, they tower at 42 inches tall. They could easily pass for kindergartners and even I can forget they are only three.

You would never know they came into the world wrinkled, deflated preemies struggling for each breath, shocked and perhaps angry to be outside their warm, watery sanctuary.

Still preferring the security of the enclosed area of their cribs to the open space of toddler beds, they have remained in their cribs. When I gaze down at their slumbering forms, I see that my babies have been swallowed up by these long-limbed little girls.

*sigh* I will miss the whimsy of 3 year old girls when teenagers take possession of them.