We’ve had a lot of baby talk the last few months. Should we have a fourth? Are we done having kids? Should we sell the baby crib? Is this really going to be the last time we are in the “baby stage”? Should I give away all the baby clothes?
Although with all certainty we have decided to not have any more biological children, making the final decision has brought this fact home in a way I wasn’t quite expecting.
Part of me is excited that we are moving forward. It’s time to start stretching my legs and remembering who I am outside of poopy diapers and midnight feedings. To reconnect with my husband as a fun loving, energetic couple instead of sleep deprived zombies who haven’t had a night without the kids in months. To focus on parenting not just living in the now.
But then part of me is scared as being in “baby birthing years” is a great excuse as to why you are not achieving your goals. As I’m preparing to potty train Valor this summer and he starts preschool two days a week this Fall, a forced reassessment and accountability is going to come on me fast and for the first time in almost seven years I will have more time for myself.
I’m not sure what I’m going to do with it all, but I know that I was made for awesome things and my mark on this world has not even begun to be made.
So in my sentimental moments, I found a bunch of pictures of me with my kids and put a slideshow together to the song I sing them all the time.
Warning, you’re not going to want to watch it all the way through, but I just wanted to memorialize this feeling of deep gratefulness towards my baby birthing years.
Going through this time of having three kids so close together, I found myself.
With my soul laid bare by my own insecurities, yet full of hope for all I wanted to be, I embarked on this journey of bringing three amazing, wide eyed, blonde headed beauties into this world. Although our journey together has only just begun and we continue to have milestone after milestone ahead of us, I will miss their sweet coo’s from the crib. Hearing the baby giggles that start in their belly and spill over like little bubbles. The look of concentration when they try to grab something, but their arms aren’t coordinated enough to quite grasp it. Nursing them in the early morning hours, rocking back and forth in a slow and steady rhythm. Holding out my hands as I urged them to walk. The excitement of their first word. Their chubby little arms when they reached out for me. Feeling their warm breath as they drifted off to sleep on my chest.
Life is beautiful.