Relief and Remose Redux

From 2011, though the feelings are quite the same in my heart...

I had a pregnancy scare.

I'm not. No baby.

Whew!

And I realized, "Whew? I am relieved? I am relieved! When did thathappen?"

When did I cross over to this side of parenting? I am... content. I am content to be a family of 5 with no future children on the horizon.

No more babies?

No more babies.

No more sleepy nursing nuzzles at 2 am while the family sleeps in my bed all jumbled in tangles of limbs and blankets.

Strollers and car seats and pacifiers and slings are all packed. I have even given some away. When a woman walked off with my exersaucer at last year's garage sale, I reasoned that I could always buy another one, if the need should arise.

The need won't arise.

I've known this. I've KNOWN this, for many, many years. Patrick has made it crystal clear that our family is FIVE and that is all that we can afford: financially and emotionally. I agree. I DO. I always have.

But.

I held that thought. That dream. That vision that surprises happen and life doesn't usually follow our plans. "We'll see...." I thought in my mind. Many, many times...

This year has allowed me freedom from the physical needs that little ones require. Freedom to sit and read. Freedom to visit with friends in the evening without worry about schedules and naps and the encumbering requirements that encompass parenting an infant. Freedom to think of a future for myself without including "and baby/child" after every scenario.

It's kind of.... nice.

Sort of.

It's nice like the day after Christmas is nice. Bittersweet, full of fresh memories that you desperately attempt to cling to, knowing that the pictures and words won't EVER fully capture the magic of the moment.

It's nice like coming home after a much-anticipated and extremely enjoyed vacation; You're exhausted and sunburnt, with overflowing luggage and tons of laundry to wash. You're wistful that it was over so very, very quickly but glad to be home to start living everyday life again, with hopes of another adventure on the horizon. Yet, you wonder if anytrip will ever be as magical as that special vacation most definitely was.

There's an ache in my heart at letting go of this period in our lives. There will always be tears that can be shed in a moment of silence... Because raising our babies and toddlers was so incredibly special for me that I can't fathom what my life will be like with 10, 15, 20 years of space between It and where I live and breathe right now. Will I be able to remember the sweetness of their small hands in mine? The way his hair smelled after the sprinklers and grass and sunshine were stirred up into those golden curls? Will I truly remember the feel of a sleeping baby on my chest? Warm and trusting, with no desires besides my love?

Sigh... I think I need some chocolate for breakfast. Chocolate, coffee and a good cry...

I want my babies back

I saw you today. I saw your frustration ebbing over your top as the eldest bopped around your navy minivan; she couldn't be contained or restrained by the booster seat, and your hands were literally quite full with the younger baby. Clad in blue and green plaid with arms and legs happily flinging about, she seemed to agree with her older sister: car seats are for SUCKERS.

You most definitely didn't see me as I observed you from my own minivan, just a few spaces diagonally across from yours. If you had spotted me, though, undoubtedly you would have formed the incorrect assumption.

I sat in my vehicle, alone, a/c on in the middle of a mall parking lot on a sunny summer Wednesday, drying my nails in the flow of the air. I had on a clean and relatively cute outfit with hair that was washed and STYLED that morning. Clearly, I live a life of luxurious, child-free existence. Clearly, I wouldn't be able to empathize with your overwhelming situation. Clearly, I was judging you and your inability to buckle 2 small children into a minivan.

If you had seen me, and if you had looked deeply into my eyes, you might have noticed that the shine in my eyes isn't a result of an overzealous air conditioner. You would have seen that the half-smile upon my face was not a self-righteous smirk but an attempt to quell the jealousy. I cannot look upon the sweetness of young families without feeling this sharp ache in my gut. My stomach physically drops and it is not uncommon for my longing to spill over in the most inopportune of times. While your baby is screaming in the grocery store as your toddler flings the bread about, I am desperately trying to zone out; not because the noise bothers me, but because I am jealous of their smallness. When you are struggling with a stroller that will not close in a rainstorm while 3 kids are crying and fighting in the car and you haven't even had coffee yet? THAT MAKES ME WISTFUL. Yeah - I even miss THAT.

So, if  you are blissfully cradling a 1 year old and all is quiet in your space and surroundings? You can rest assured that I am just moments away from a full-on sob-fest. If I race to the bathroom, it's not my weakened bladder but my weakened heart and tear ducts that are to blame.

I am not so far removed from young parenthood that it is a distant memory. Just handfuls of months ago, my baby WAS a baby - they were all upon me, all the time. And while I do enjoy the little perks that having older children allows me (like leisurely painting my nails on a Weds in a parking lot ALL ALONE), I would trade it back for a few moments of my babies being BABIES.

Little hands that reach for me and only me to pick them "uppy, Mommy! Uppy!"...

I long to feel that fabulous weight that only comes from a young child who has passed out on my shoulder; sweaty, sun-kissed hair in my face; infusing my mind with the deepest love I've ever known...

I don't sugarcoat all of the memories. Yes, a lot of the care involved in raising little ones is monotonous and selfless, but so is ALL OF LIFE. There is so much beauty in the briefness of babies! So much to treasure with toddlers! Preschoolers and young children have a magical quality about them that draws my heart...

Truth be told: I don't want another baby. I just want MY BABIES BACK.

A look across a crowded room...

You know what I miss about having babies? Besides the obvious answers:

~ delicious smelling cheeks and shoulders
~ Skin so soft that I would literally rub my face all over them, just to absorb their youthful texture
~ that heavenly weight upon my chest after they'd fall into a perfect, blissful sleep; completely trusting and adoring of me and my abilities to keep them alive and happy from one day to the next...

All of that was lovely. It truly was. And I crave those physical aspects of parenting a baby every. single. day.

But there is a more subtle aspect of parenting young ones that I miss. I never expected it. I never even thought of it as something TO be missed. Because it was such a pervasive part of the beginnings of parenthood that it didn't occur to me that it would ever be, well, gone...

I miss that knowing glance that I would exchange with another woman when I'd walk into a room with a baby or toddler in my arms. If baby would cry or laugh or wrap his arms around my neck, we moms would know. We'd wistfully smile and conversations would be struck up. A camaraderie was immediately felt and a bond was created over that brief look.

I miss being on the receiving end of the grace that is extended to parents of young ones...

Care to make a wager on how many wistful and yearning smiles across a crowded room I receive nowadays with a teen, a tween and a 7 year old?  If a smile is exchanged, it's because I've attacked another unsuspecting mama and infant. I still get strange looks from that poor new mom who let me hold her 2 month old while we waited for homeschool co-op to finish; instead of me being helpful by freeing up her arms for a few minutes, she got to witness tears and snot pouring from my face because "Oh My God! A baby! And my babies are so big!!!" I swear to God, it was mortifying. I cannot control my emotions around new babies anymore....

That said, there IS a sense of unity between the moms of older kids. We share similar battle scars and there is plenty to be joyful over when parenting children and teens instead of infants and toddlers...

But I really, truly miss those precious looks and moments...

Relief and Remorse

I had a pregnancy scare.

I'm not. No baby.

Whew!

And I realized, "Whew? I am relieved? I am relieved! When did that happen?"

When did I cross over to this side of parenting? I am... content. I am content to be a family of 5 with no future children on the horizon.

No more babies?

No more babies.

No more sleepy nursing nuzzles at 2 am while the family sleeps in my bed all jumbled in tangles of limbs and blankets.

Strollers and car seats and pacifiers and slings are all packed. I have even given some away. When a woman walked off with my exersaucer at last year's garage sale, I reasoned that I could always buy another one, if the need should arise.

The need won't arise.

I've known this. I've KNOWN this, for many, many years. Patrick has made it crystal clear that our family is FIVE and that is all that we can afford: financially and emotionally. I agree. I DO. I always have.

But.

I held that thought. That dream. That vision that surprises happen and life doesn't usually follow our plans. "We'll see...." I thought in my mind. Many, many times...

This year has allowed me freedom from the physical needs that little ones require. Freedom to sit and read. Freedom to visit with friends in the evening without worry about schedules and naps and the encumbering requirements that encompass parenting an infant. Freedom to think of a future for myself without including "and baby/child" after every scenario.

It's kind of.... nice.

Sort of.

It's nice like the day after Christmas is nice. Bittersweet, full of fresh memories that you desperately attempt to cling to, knowing that the pictures and words won't EVER fully capture the magic of the moment.

It's nice like coming home after a much-anticipated and extremely enjoyed vacation; You're exhausted and sunburnt, with overflowing luggage and tons of laundry to wash. You're wistful that it was over so very, very quickly but glad to be home to start living everyday life again, with hopes of another adventure on the horizon. Yet, you wonder if any trip will ever be as magical as that special vacation most definitely was.

There's an ache in my heart at letting go of this period in our lives. There will always be tears that can be shed in a moment of silence... Because raising our babies and toddlers was so incredibly special for me that I can't fathom what my life will be like with 10, 15, 20 years of space between It and where I live and breathe right now. Will I be able to remember the sweetness of their small hands in mine? The way his hair smelled after the sprinklers and grass and sunshine were stirred up into those golden curls? Will I truly remember the feel of a sleeping baby on my chest? Warm and trusting, with no desires besides my love?

Sigh... I think I need some chocolate for breakfast. Chocolate, coffee and a good cry...