Last night I held my baby. I held him and held him and held him.
Even though he's not technically a baby anymore.
He's most definitely a toddler, but in my heart--this 4th time around--he's a baby. Since this is the first time I have been able to enjoy an 18 month old without a big whopping belly of baby or a newborn, I am trying to enjoy.
And yet, I find myself in tears.
I am more than perfectly happy with 4 children. This was my dream and I love them all without needing a fifth.
Still, the baby phase is ending.
And I feel abandoned by myself.
No longer will I be carrying a life inside of me.
No longer will I wonder, "When will he show up? I hope I have everything in order. Oh, boy, we're doing this again?"
No longer will I experience the thrill of labor. Because it's totally a thrill!
No longer will I be able to hold a teeny tiny slimy little body in my arms and think, "Wow!" or watch Chris shield his eyes from the light for the first time.
I know that it's really okay, and I am excited for my family to grow up. I'm excited to travel with them and discover new things; to walk the scary road of adolescence with them. I truly am. And maybe that's where my new thrills will be found.
But for all the no longers?
I am sad.
I am joining Heather at The EO for her 3rd installment of Just Write