One of parenthood’s biggest struggles – and joys – is watching your little one grow up, as columnist Alex Jee has been discovering…

On Tuesday, I was faced with the heartbreaking reality that at 12 weeks old, we could officially no longer call my daughter a newborn*. Quite quickly, I started going through a familiar cycle in reaction.

Denial

This came hot on the heels of the realisation that the little newborn clothes that we bought her no longer fit – no matter how hard we tried.

“No, I swear this babygrow has shrunk in the wash,” I insist to my wife as I do battle to try and fit her shoulders and legs in at the same time.

“It must be some setting on the washing machine,” I continue to protest as I work my way through every piece of newborn clothing we have to find something that doesn’t look like it was designed for a doll.

“What an utter mystery,” I say aloud, turning my back on the elephant that crouches trunk-in-hand in the middle of the room.

Anger

“She’s growing up,” someone – doubtless a well-meaning friend or family member – pipes up, “you’d be amazed how fast that happens, just you wait until the toddler stage”.

Naturally, when someone says this there is no other solution but to cut them out of your life. I don’t need that kind of hard-hitting truth, thank you very much.

No, not really (you can delete that comment now), but we’re lying to ourselves if a small part of you didn’t want to put your fingers in your ears and shut your eyes when hearing that for the first time

Bargaining

Look, I think, she’s still only in the zero to three-month old range. That’s a wide range… and still extremely small.

And my wife and I have managed to get something out of the bargain – our daughter now fits the little Manchester United onesie I bought before she was born, just in time for the start of the season.

(You may ask what exactly my wife got out of that… as did she. I’ll get back to you on that.)

“And I suppose it is nice to have a touch more variety in her clothing,” my wife reasons. “There are loads more options now she’s grown a bit.”

Depression

Of course, then comes the dreaded moment of realisation. The newborn phase is over, you’re not a newborn parent any more, you’re just a… parent.

And the hardest part of all – packing the little clothes away. My wife took on that dreadful task while I was at work but my word, what an impact that moment can have.

Were a few tears shed? Perhaps. It’s amazing how often people cut onions in a house with a newborn… a baby, sorry.

Acceptance

Let’s be honest here, though, all of this happens and is gone in a heartbeat because at the same time, amazing new things are happening with every new day.

My mornings are ten times better now I get greeted with a big smile, and every bath time is more fun than the last – our dog has even started to watch with interest, although I suspect he’s paranoid it’s all a trick to get him into the bath for a wash.

As time goes on she grows more into a person, and I’ll be frank – the girl is hilarious. She has a pair of lungs on her to rival any actor or radio presenter, and is already learning to put them to good use.

As I’m writing this, she is having a very animated debate with the knitted bumblebees on the mobile above her bed. I have no idea what the conversation is about, but I think she’s winning.

So there it is. The cycle of dealing with change has come full circle, and we’re ready to do it all again – and again, and again.

To be fair, when I pitched this week’s column to my editor, the first thing she said was “spare a thought for the parents whose children are starting school in September!”

Not a bad point. A shout out, also, to the parents who are facing the prospect of sending their babies off to university, having just got their A-level results yesterday. It must be – put the champagne down, please – it must be hard – ah, never mind.

*There are some people who say the newborn phase only lasts two months. For those people, all I can say is nobody asked, shut up.