Our last houseguest had driven off in the morning on the day my daughter decided to crawl. We were sitting on the living room rug, Eva’s hands full with these plastic animals she likes to clap together. We call that “band time” around here, where Eva passes a plastic pig or cow to another band member, and then we all sit there clapping the bits together loudly and in sync as my daughter giggles. I was the only other band member present that afternoon, and was enthusiastically clapping together the orange chicken and blue cow.

Eva was holding onto the pink plastic pig when she decided to get onto all fours. I was playing my instrument while leaning against the couch and keeping an eye on her. Pushing up on all fours wasn’t anything new to Eva, as she’d been doing so for a few weeks now, usually with her eye on something out of reach. From there, she’d collapse onto her belly and begin pulling herself across the floor, unhurried but determined to get what she wanted.

But this time something was different. Eva remained on all fours for a beat longer than usual, and then with a hint of a smile, she crawled. I sat up straight, then hunched over to look my daughter in the eye. My mouth was already dropped open when my daughter gave me a big happy smile and collapsed onto her belly.
I swooped Eva into my arms, giving her the biggest hug I could while swinging her around and covering her with kisses. She squealed with laughter before I sat her again on the rug and grabbed my phone from my pocket. I framed my 9-month-old daughter in the center of the screen, still holding that pink plastic pig, and hit record, all the while asking Eva to crawl once more so I could send something to her dad.

In the video, she starts off sitting upright, transferring the pig from one hand to the other before getting onto her hands and knees, crawling towards a rickety floor lamp. About two seconds before she is able to wrap her hands around the iron claw of the lamp’s base, she falls to her belly. The Big Second Crawl is all on video. I teared up, an embarrassingly emotional flurry of pride, relief and a sudden need to slow down the clock.

This milestone is different from all the others. I swear my daughter struggled to hold her head up the minute she was placed across my chest in the delivery room. And her first smile came within days of her introduction to this world (gassy or not, it still counts). Sitting up happened as expected, but Eva had already spent weeks of her young life in the seated position, propped up by pillows, stuffed animals and what have you. When her full-belly laugh arrived, it was magical in its ability to fill my heart so much it almost hurt, but it an evolution of the noises that escaped from my newborn months ago: little rhythmic snorts that were somehow sweet, sounds a newborn makes when they escape the womb. The other milestone I wondered about was when her two little arms would be able to meet above her big baby head. But somewhere along the way, the fingers did meet in the middle, but I couldn’t tell you when.

Crawling is the first milestone in Eva becoming independent. She’s going to get around on her own now, you know? It’s mind-boggling that in less than a year, I’ve become a mom, left my job, battled sleepless nights, started a new job, learned how to make baby food, set up a nap schedule, changed a criminal number of diapers…and watched my baby become a crawler. I think often (possibly too often) about what parents says about time passing quickly, and how it can painfully ring true. It’s the reminder I need to enjoy the moment, because there’s nothing I can do to stop it or even change it.

Some of Eva’s pals crawled before she did, which was a much-needed lesson in patience and acceptance. I want to say I don’t ever think about Eva being the smartest, fastest or anything-that-ends-with-est baby, but I would be lying. But I wasn’t bothered by Eva not crawling. I’m still not. I was bothered by me even thinking about Eva not crawling, whether it was because I’d read something about it or was asked about it. Being a mom has taught me to accept that the little things don’t matter. It’s nice knowing you can shed unwanted skin.

And now she’s crawling. It was bittersweet when Eva moved on from being a newborn. It felt like I blinked (or, slept through the night) and suddenly she was different, no longer a newborn. And again it’s bittersweet, now that Eva’s obsessed with getting from Point A to Point B. I’m so happy she’s tackling this next milestone in life and entering a new stage, but I’m also wistful thinking about how we’re leaving another one behind. And as I think about what it means to live life with a crawler…wow—yet another example of why its important to enjoy the days as they come. Because time spent wondering when Eva would crawl should have been time spent enjoying my gentle, immobile baby that liked rattles, chewing on toys and waving her hands above her head. I’ll miss those days.

But the fact that I can now crouch on the floor with my arms widespread and ask Eva to come give mommy a hug? There’s nothing bittersweet there.