I don’t need to hear another toddler say his or her first words but I would give anything to spend another day just sitting and listening to my two-year-old babble, in the sweetest voice I’ve ever heard, as she made sense of the world around her.
I don’t want to nurse another baby — I want to go back to the last time I nursed my baby boy and savor the moment, hold him a little closer, breathe in his sweet scent and enjoy every last second of our year-long nursing journey.
I remember thinking, on the days that were so long and so hard and when I felt I had failed in every single way imaginable, ‘they are young, they won’t remember this day.’ But what I failed to realize was that just as quickly as they forgot the mundane, boring days watching me do laundry and scrub bathrooms, the memories of those ordinary, quiet, beautiful moments of cuddling a baby and a toddler and reading endless stories to them on the couch would begin to fade from my memory as well.
The realization that our family is complete is so bittersweet.
Holding my nieces and nephews as newborn babies will forever leave my arms aching and my heart flip-flopping as I breathe in their sweet newborn smell and caress their soft cheeks. Attending my close friends’ baby showers will always remind me of the excitement and joy I once felt counting down the days until my due dates as I anticipated the unknown. Watching a small toddler stumble around the park on shaky, uncoordinated legs will continue to take my breath away as I remember the first time my babies walked into my outstretched arms.
Babies have the power to heal, to give your life purpose, to force you to grow up, to transform you into a better version of yourself, and to create joy like you’ve never felt before….but I know, with every cell in my body, that another baby would only leave me wanting the one thing I can never get back — more time.
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This article originally appeared at Whine Thirty, published with permission.
