This weekend was a big weekend for me. I've been slowly letting go of my "baby" days and trying to take a step into the next stage of life. I'm done having babies, it's time to raise the babies.
We have been selling off the vestiges of that life on craigslist. One piece at a time. We've donated many items and have saved some to make a buck. Each time I give one away, it stings a little. Then I do a little dance at the extra space in my storage closet. It's almost all gone.
This weekend though, was clothing purge time. This was hard for me. The true meaning of bittersweet. It was really hard. I could vividly remember each daughter in various pieces of clothing. I could still smell that baby smell, and those memories that have been slowly slipping away came rushing back. Holding tiny dresses, little onesies and cozy sleepers, I felt like I had my babies back for a brief moment.
I was incredibly contemplative during this time. Do I want another baby? The answer was an overwhelming yes. But not for the right reasons. I feel done with my girls. I love them and their dynamic and watching them grow. For me, it's what I want. I feel done. Yet this tiny little piece of me holds on to the baby fantasy. You know, like those moments when they are fresh from their bath and smell just like heaven. You KNOW that's what heaven smells like. The moments where they are asleep and are so cozy their hair clings to their face. The way it feels to just hold or sleep with a sleeping baby. The looking at every part of their body and feeling the true meaning of miraculous.
I want that. I want it again, and I want it for the rest of my life. I want to immediately go and have my little one sleeping in my arms. I want to freeze that time. Even though I love watching them grow and see the little girls they are turning into, part of me longs for that baby. At some point, the reality of what having a baby is really like crashes in on me. It wasn't all rosy and perfect, but it's easy to cling to those memories.
I really think I'm done. I like have older girls and I look forward to the road ahead. As I was putting these clothes in the bags to leave my house, I realized something I wasn't cognizant of before. I was angry. I felt cheated.
I know. I was given a gift, and I love that gift. But I never was able to put into words how I felt, about Emma. It dawned on me I felt cheated. She was supposed to be my last baby. She was supposed to be the rosy perfection. Instead, I had a baby in pain who made a year of my life disappear. I realized in that moment that I had gotten what I unconsciously wished for. for it to be over. I wanted the time to fly so that she would get older, and in turn, better. She would stop being in pain, get a grip and our life would be easier again. The screaming and my depression robbed me of being able to enjoy my last little one the way I wanted to. I just wanted that time to fly. It did.
I was trying to share this with Dan. He sat patiently listening to the babble that sounds remarkably like the babble here (but with even more 0f a whiny sound, and probably much, much longer). I finally said, "Dan, I feel like I didn't get to enjoy my baby. I should have done it better, I should have enjoyed her more. She's my last baby and I wished it away."
His reply, "well, she wasn't really a baby per se, more like an angry little dwarf"