I’ve been on a bit of an emotional down lately. I’m finding myself grieving the tiny baby stage of not only Noa, but all of my kids. It is such a strange bundle of emotions to wade through. I am one hundred and ten percent sure that we will not be having anymore children. But I’m also very sad to let go of this chapter, even the sleepless nights, the sick winters, the endless laundry, and the constant mess.
I already miss the kicks and rolls in my belly. The way I feel, so confident in my body, as it grows and changes. The hopeful anticipation of new life. The wonder and mystery – what will they look like? I miss being the only person who is with them 24/7. I even somehow miss the nervousness and exhaustion of those last days of pregnancy.
I long for the newborn bliss of those first few days. I’m going to miss the sleepy snuggles. The tiny bodies that rest so peacefully on my chest, and as they grow, in the crook of my arms. The squishy cheeks, perfect little lips and toes and belly buttons. The longest, and yet tiniest of eyelashes. The wispy hair, and then lack thereof. The gummy first smiles, and then when they have a single tooth shining so bright. I didn’t think that I could love their smiles any more, and yet I do.
The tiny little babies somehow turn into toddlers way before its time. That space in-between when they learn to crawl and stand and cruise. They are still a baby, but also part toddler. I can’t seem to keep track of where they are anymore. They get into things they shouldn’t, and so I babyproof. They fall down and get their first of many boo boos. They get upset because this world is so big and they feel so small.
I love that they need me. I love that they want to need me too. Sylas is already on the verge of not wanting my help anymore. But he still climbs into my bed every now and then. He will ask me to snuggle a while before I kiss them goodnight. He loves to have conversations about everything under the sun. He makes his own sandwiches, and shows me with such pride. He loves to do everything himself. He isn’t as afraid to ask for help when he needs it though.
Even Ivan doesn’t like it when I come to his rescue when he falls. Its like he feels embarrassed. When did he learn that? When did he decide that he doesn’t need his mama’s help anymore? He fell off of his bike the other day, and I could tell that it hurt. When he got up, I could tell he was trying to hold his breath through the throbbing of the pain. But he didn’t shed a tear. I asked if he was ok. He just told me that he fell off the bike. He picked it up, got back on and away he went. I hope they know that I’ll always be here.
Amalia is suddenly speaking in full, completely coherent sentences. She makes silly voices when she plays different characters. She loves to sing and dance. She loves to cuddle too. I so look forward to her greeting when I get home from work. “Mommy, I missed you so much! I wanna stay wif you at your work.” she says in her teeny “ducky voice” as I call it. She sounds so much like me when I was her age.
Noa learned how to crawl, sit, pull-up, and cruise all in the span of a couple weeks. She isn’t my little baby anymore. I have a feeling she will be walking by nine months like Ivan did. She is a mamas girl though, and that makes up for it. She chases me everywhere and wants to be with me. She loves to be in a carrier so she can come with me while I clean. I don’t mind because that, too, is fleeting. Sometimes, when I’m feeling especially sentimental, I’ll put her in a sling and wear her until she falls alseep, just so I can rock her one more time. She doesn’t really like rocking anymore.
Even though I’ll miss this time tremendously, and I’m incredibly grateful for all it has taught me, I look forward to the next part too.
I look forward to the diaperless children. To being able to go out without having to bring extra this, and a few of that, just in case. I look forward to road trips without screaming babies and toddlers and to going places on a whim just because we can. I hopefully await the day that I do not have to clean up 999 messes. I foretaste my children being less picky and wasteful, and more willing to try new things as a part of the “clean plate club.” I await the winters spent with less sickness and runny noses. And as hard as it is for me to start sorting through their little clothes to put in a yard sale, I am also ready to have more room in the house.
We are still in the thick of it, but I already miss it. I’m going to forever look back on these days with such fondness. I treasure every moment this chapter has given me, even the really hard days.