My babies are disappearing.
And it’s killing me.
I mean, I absolutely adore who they’ve become.
11 month-old Chase has this belly laugh that is infectious. He gets himself in so much trouble (lunging, grabbing, climbing and flinging himself everywhere) that I often find myself holding him to keep him from injuring himself. My arm aches but I don’t care. He is safe with me.
When I do put him down, he lies in wait until one of us inadvertently leaves the baby gate open and then he beelines for the stairs as if there are a thousand Trader Joe’s turkey meatballs at the top. I fall in love with his piercing blue eyes again and again.
His twin sister Harlowe is easier. She is sweet, more patient and has the ability to play on her own quite contently. She delicately and slowly eats her meals, while keeping one foot on the tray at all times. I told her it’s rude. She acts like she doesn’t understand me.
She is just now trying to pull herself up and when she succeeds she cries for someone to get her down. I could stroke her hair and kiss those cheeks for eternity. Absolute eternity.
They babble endlessly. I wish I knew what they were saying.
I know they think their big sisters are the most magical people on the planet. I can tell by how their faces light up when Dylan or Summer come into view.
But my babies are fading away.
Soon they will be a year old. I’ll think about weaning. They’ll start walking. Chase will get to the top of those stairs. I hope he’s not disappointed that there aren’t any meatballs.
In the past, I always knew, if I was blessed, another baby would come our way.
But not this time.
A part of my life is done. One incredible, miraculous part. I’m done making babies. How did it go so fast?
I was never a baby person. I hardly held a baby until my first Dylan came along. But my children were intoxicating with their soft tiny feet, wispy hair (or not so much hair in Dylan’s case) and sweet newborn scent. Colic, mastitis, thrush, reflux… none of it could sway me from my adoration of babyhood.
I will have to let the babies go. I have no other choice. Chase and Harlowe aren’t interested in being babies. They are interested in forging ahead into this incredible, unexpected, colorful world.
And I have to do the same.
mama bird notes:
This post was inspired by Clarity in the Chaos.