Ode to lasts

After getting home late last night, a cuddly sleeping babe in my lap and another sweet freckled face doll baby sitting next to me, it’s one of those moments you imprint your mom heart. We were out late for family dinner and had headed to get ice cream to celebrate my youngest being successful with potty training. And as we’re conversing about the success, I can feel a knot in my stomach and tears in my eyes. Maybe it was the hard cider having me all sentimental, but I felt sad about not having anyone in my house in diapers anymore. It felt like one of those punch you in the gut moments, like when they tell you one day you’ll pick up your baby for the last time and not even realize it. It’s not something I’m ready to face, the pings of sadness as I grieve my youngest growing, accepting I’ll not get these experiences again. Every milestone also represents a last and a closing that makes my heart twinge with hurt. 

I can remember at a young age I always knew I wanted to stay home and raise a lot of children 

I was (am….) open to having 6 or more. This isn’t the space to debate the family planning process- there are pros and cons, sacrifices and hardships to all decisions revolving around trying to grow, birth, and raise children no matter what situation is best for your family. My point is how eager I’ve always been to have a big family. 

I’ve been incredibly fortunate health wise. Out of 5 pregnancies, 4 of them have resulted in beautiful children. 3 of them were carried full term with no complications, 1 was premature but with no health complications for me or for baby. I did not have complicated or exceptionally difficult pregnancies or deliveries. I did not have trouble conceiving. On the whole, I have more wishes granted in one lifetime than I could ever need. 

In all of my eagerness, with all of my success, I was literally living out the dream I for so long hoped. I did not, however, have the ability to see around corners. I wasn’t able to predict the feelings of what happens once you leave the excitement of new baby hood, and enter the new chapter of your life, once you realize you are likely done having kids. The feelings of every milestone now being the last, and knowing that a huge chapter of your life is closing. 

(For those who celebrate) think about the anticipation you got as a child during Christmastime. All year leads up to it, and there is so much excitement buzzing about. The holiday spirit, the carols, the baking, the decorations, shopping, wrapping, list making- so many fun memory makers. And then you see the last package under the tree. The signal that everything you’ve been celebrating, enjoying, and looking forward too all year is coming to a close. Theres the little pit of sadness once all of the gifts are opened, the meals consumed, and it’s all over. Sure there’s toys and family and so much to be thankful for, but you also kind of get the blues. For me as an adult now the end of the Christmas season indicates another year older, a reminder we won’t get this time back. And I kind of relate these same kind of bluesy grief to how I feel knowing my baby, who is no longer a baby, is my last one. 

Thank you, my little madman, for walking with me through these series of lasts.