Today my heart grieves. It sits in my chest like huge blubbering lump of an organ, kinda like my ovaries. In two days, my twins will turn 5. They will no longer be babies. They won’t be anywhere near babyhood. Every day they say, “Please, don’t call us babies. We’re big boys”.
Logically, I know it’s ridiculous, to be so upset about a fifth birthday. I’m expecting these kids to live to be 100. They’ll see things I can’t even dream of. They’ll crest a new century. They will probably get to go to the moon on vacation. It’ll be amazing lives these kids lead. If we round this birthday up or down compared to 100 years, they are closer to babies than wrinkly old men.
But lately, every time I see an older person I think about how they were once small helpless babies. Once, they were precocious toddlers who delighted their parents with their views of the world. Once they were little. They were new.
And when I see a baby, a little piece of my heart shatters knowing that I will never again have a baby. Never again grow little hands and feet in my womb and feeling little legs and arms stretch within the safe confines on my body. Never again, will I rock a sleeping infant in the dark of night. Never again, will I nurse my baby, wear them on my hip, stand over their sleeping shapes in the dark and listen for the sweet sound of their breath.
I think of all of the lasts that happen every day. The things that I didn’t even know where the lasts. The things that I didn’t even know I would one day miss. Things like onesies under feety pajamas, rocking little ones to sleep, and playing this little piggy on small toddler toes.
There should be mother books for things like this. This way we could keep an exact record of it. We could cherish all those things we rush through every day to get to the next thing. The last time I nursed you. The last time I needed to hold your hand while you walked. The last time you feel asleep on my chest. The last time I played the Tooth Fairy. The last time you called for me in the middle of the night to kiss your head and tuck you in. Sometimes they are small things we can’t wait to get past. The last diaper change. The last time I had to tie your shoes. The last time I brushed your teeth. The last time you cried for your pacifier. The last time they wore those small tiny training pants on their little tiny hineys.
This is just the beginning of the lasts. There isn’t anyone behind these little two to rock and hold and baby. This is the beginning of the end of this phase of my life.
It just breaks my heart. It breaks it into a million pieces.
Overactiveovaries 
you’ve captured the emotions so well.
Thank you for the wonderful compliment 🙂
Now I’m sad! Looking at my kidlets and wondering “how did you grow so fast?” I love bedtime and stories with endless tickles and snorts. Prayers spoken so innocently and childlike. Our snuggle times are growing farther and farther apart. It seems they don’t call out for me as much….since they an do most on their own. Hmmm, I’m going to go give my kids a hug right now and tell them I love them so much!!
me too!
I know that this is a rough time. It is always sad to think of the last time of anything. I, too, miss the joys of a little baby sleeping on my chest or the smiles of them just wanting to sit and listen to me sing.
At the same time, there are so many positives to look forward to. Think of getting to cheer at high school football games. Having boys old enough that they can carry their own packs on a family hike. Helping your daughter choose a prom dress. Thanksgiving dinners when all my children come home to visit. My point is that babies are a great stage of parenthood but there are so many other stages that are also great. Of course we will miss this first, and very endearing, stage even as celebrate the current stage. This is not the ending of the book, just a turning of a page.
Some of the scariest things in my life have been the unknown. The first time I laid down for the night, alone in my own apartment. The first time I pulled the throttle on a motorcycle and headed up an onramp to I-10. The first time I sat alone in a cockpit and watched the ground rapidly fall away beneath me. The first time I was lost (and I mean REALLY lost) in a country where I don’t speak the language. In all cases, I knew that I must take my experiences, look forward, and bravely walk on. The difference is that, this time, I am not walking alone. You and I will be holding each other’s hands as we go to see what the
Lord has planned next for us.
I love you!
And don’t forget one day being able to buy a quart of milk instead of 2 gallons at a time. I look forward to that!
I just got selected to do a diaper study for CVS and I was so excited! Until I realized I do not have any children in diapers anymore!!!
I saw owen’s picture on facebook and I was floored at how BIG he is!
their always going to be the babies loveingly
My heart also breaks for you…. I guess it’s time for some more babies