My baby boy is turning three this weekend, and I’m getting sentimental and weepy.
It’s not that I want more children. Not that at all. I want the being pregnant, childbirth and newborn experience that goes so fast. As much as I complained, I loved it all.
Some people say they knew when they were done having children, and never got the pang you get when holding a sweet newborn. I feel like I’ll always get that pang. Whether I have two or twenty. So we’re done at two.
The hardest part has been that for some reason I thought when I said we were done with having babies, the rest of the world would too, and I wouldn’t have to deal with seeing sweet squishy newborn faces.
The reality is, I had my babies relatively young. So now my contemporaries are all just starting their babyhood journey.
And I see a lot of squishy newborn faces. Doh.
Enter lots of pangs and reality coming front and center.
The reality that two is our limit. The reality that I’m ok with having given birth to my two beautiful babies. The reality that what I long for with the pangs is to remember their babyhoods better, and not just through pictures. The reality that babies are so much work, and embody so much craziness that God makes it so you forget all the sleepless nights, the wet nursing bras, the crying, the chaos that is bringing a child into this world.
If you’re meant to have more.
And we, are not. Biologically anyway. And I remember all too well those sleepless nights, and wet nursing bras, the crying and the chaos. Not there there isn’t chaos with the 15 month and over crowd…
We’re just getting to the fun part, childhood – leaving babyhood behind. While it’s sad, it’s also so exciting to see who the kids are becoming. Their own people, individuals, who we are lucky to be connected to.
I do find myself getting nostalgic for days spent nursing babies on the couch, and hearing baby hiccups, but now those days are stored in my memory for a rainy day. It’s also not the same when you don’t have to call your own mother to make sure it’s ok that the baby is hiccuping (yes, I did that with Fynn… and probably with Paige too…) or wonder if you’ll ever love anything more than babyhood. I now know. You will. Their childhood is just as precious. Their whole lives are. Maybe the pangs are just reminders of what was, and to keep those memories alive and well. There are still parts of those babies living in my toddlers now, they just get buried a little deeper the older they get. But they’re still there.