Every step I take closer to you is a step you take further from me

It’s been 8 months, 35 weeks, 5880 hours since I’ve known of your existence. Each and every minute I worried about you, I got to know you better. Every movement, reaction, imagined preference. I never knew true joy, true curiosity. I also never knew true anxiety until I knew of you.

You wholly encompassed my heart and mind; I knew you needed the perfect environment. So, I guarded you with every part of my being, from how I slept, how I moved, and what I ate…to keep you with me. I want to keep you to myself, to be able to keep you safe. My heart rate speeds up, I think it’s the higher volume of blood, or maybe it’s my heart skipping a beat for you. Either way, my heart is working harder now than ever.

You’re nearly ready to breathe on your own. I’m not ready. Then sit on your own. Then crawl on your own. Then walk, speak, learn, grow…on your own. I’m not ready. I want to keep you to myself, just you and me every minute, hour, day, week, month…because once you leave me, you’ll just keep leaving me.

Each moment of your growth, I become closer to you, more fiercely attached. Only for every step, I take closer to you, to be a step that you take away from me.