So this week marks my littlest guy being 2 months old. For the most part, he only sleeps when he’s being held. There is the odd nap here and there in his swing, but mostly he sleeps in my arms. Or on my chest while I write or read aloud to the children. Or over my shoulder while I do laundry one-handed. He sleeps or nurses in the Moby while we do school. Yeah, we’re pretty much inseparable.
He’s currently sleeping across my stomach on top of both of my arms while I type. Is it inconvenient? Totally. Bothersome at times? You betcha. Would I rather he sleep elsewhere? Nope. He very well may be my last baby. AND, I’m what you’d call a holder. I hold my babies. All. The. Time. I still carry my four year old from time to time. Why?
Because of this . . .
One Last Time
From the moment you hold your baby in your arms,
you will never be the same.
You might long for the person you were before,
When you have freedom and time,
And nothing in particular to worry about.
But don’t forget …You will know tiredness like you never knew it before,
And days will run into days that are exactly the same
Full of feedings and burping,
Nappy changes and crying,
Whining and fighting,
Naps or a lack of naps,
It might seem like a never-ending cycle.
There is a last time for everything.
There will come a time when you will feed
your baby for the very last time.
They will fall asleep on you after a long day
And it will be the last time you ever hold your sleeping child.
One day you will carry them on your hip then set them down,
And never pick them up that way again.
You will scrub their hair in the bath one night
And from that day on they will want to bathe alone.
They will hold your hand to cross the road,
Then never reach for it again.
They will creep into your room at midnight for cuddles,
And it will be the last night you ever wake to this.
One afternoon you will sing “the wheels on the bus”
and do all the actions,
Then never sing them that song again.
They will kiss you goodbye at the school gate,
The next day they will ask to walk to the gate alone.
You will read a final bedtime story and wipe your last dirty face.
They will run to you with arms raised for the very last time.
The thing is, you won’t even know it’s the last time
Until there are no more times.
And even then, it will take you a while to realize.
So while you are living in these times,
remember there are only so many of them
and when they are gone, you will yearn for just one more day of them.
For one last time.
I can’t read that poem without tearing up. It’s so true.
I have one son who will be away at college in less than a year, a daughter who will be grown and gone herself in just four short years. Granted, my other four children are younger- 2 mos, 2, 4, and 5. But . . . it just goes so fast. Suddenly they’re walking, then talking, then wanting to do things on their own, then they’re GONE. It’s nuts!
So what’s the moral of this story? Be present. Hold their little hands. Sing the silly songs, and play the silly games. Read that stupid nonsensical book again for the 548th time- because eventually, it will be the last time.