Juicebox Confession: More Than Just A Bag

I bought a super fancy diaper bag when my daughter was very young. I knew it would be my constant companion for a while and wanted to make sure it would stand the test of time.

I remember the day it was delivered. Finally, I would have room for everything my tiny daughter required to leave the house. I stocked it full of diapers, creams, wipes, toys, nursing cover, blankets, extra clothes, my phone, a notebook, and her favorite stuffy. Together we were ready for what the day in the outside world would throw our way.

Over time the things in that bag changed. They evolved. A sippy cup replaced the nursing cover, diapers turned into training pants. Her tiny blankets left, giving room for crayons and coloring books. Snacks overflowed form various pockets and her favorite stuffy jumped ship, opting to be carried in the arms of my now walking toddler. The contents of our bag had changed signifying the change in my daughter. In me.

Slowly the need for the bag lessened. Some days it would be left at home in favor of my purse. Other days I would grab it only to abandon it in the car when we arrived at our destination. The transition was slow. As my daughter grew the need for this bag faded. The last thread of her babyhood slipped into the background.

I loved that bag. I loved the tiny diapers it once so dutifully held. I loved the smell of the creams and the wipes. The feel of her soft blankies and tiny clothes all folded so neatly inside a pocket. I loved the security of having what I needed at arms reach. I loved watching her crawl to the bag and peer in, looking for a snack. I adored seeing her struggle to carry it and toddler to me, asking for a new diaper.

It recently occurred to me that I had not seen that fancy bag in a while. I decided to hunt it down. Part of the reason I bought it was so I could continue to use it as a purse for myself long after my daughter outgrew it. I sifted through bins in our basement. Boxes of clean, folded, diapers, untouched for the past year. Totes bursting with impossible tiny dresses and shoes. Bins full of brightly colored toys that, at a push of a button, would play “You Are My Sunshine.” I smiled at the memories these things induced. Only a few years ago these things were nothing but a dream. My daughter nothing but a wish. A hope. My biggest prayer.

Seeing all these things, all of her things from her babyhood made me realize how much we have grown. All of us. I closed the boxes and put the lids on the totes. I tucked away the bins and went upstairs. I watched as my now pre-school age daughter twirled and leapt, practicing her dance moves. I listened as she sang to herself, a song of her own creation.

“I love you so much!

I love you so much!

I love you Mommy!

I love you Daddy!

I love you SO SO SO much!!!”

She has grown out of her babyhood. She has moved beyond her toddler years. She was growing up before my very eyes. She wasn’t looking back, why was I? As I reached over and clicked off the light to the stairs I breathed a sigh of contentment.

I never found the bag. I left it to be with the other sweet memories, in the basement. I didn’t need it. She didn’t need it. We had grown, we had aged and as much as I adored the early years, I wouldn’t trade now for anything.