I don’t feel like celebrating!

IMG_7A98C1D27B77-1The past 2 weeks have been hellacious on my emotions, in the midst of it all the littlest little turned one and as she closed her precious blue eleven month old eyes on that final night of infancy, it was as if the place in my heart where the processing of  love, adoration, wonder, amazement, excitement and all the emotions that are created as your baby grows inside of you and then when you meet them for the first time, closed it’s doors and slapped a condemned sign across them.

I violently sobbed while rivers of tears formed into puddles on my husband’s bare chest as he held me in bed that night after lying her down. I’m not a crier and I most certainly am not the sentimental type but it hurt saying goodbye to infancy and closing that chapter in my motherhood novel.

It still hurts and I don’t think it’s ever going to stop completely, it may not always take my breath away, leaving me buckled over gasping for air, I imagine it will dull some over time resembling the tenderness felt in an old scar when brushed up against. I feel it every time she reaches another milestone.

Embarrassingly, I admit I have made more of an effort to breathe in her scent deeper, to really study her seemingly daily changing face, observing each learning curve, and being present for every trust building moment than I did with the previous littles, but in my defense I knew all of her firsts would be my lasts.

When we first made eye contact and I knew she recognized me, I mean really knew it was her Momma and how she wouldn’t break that stare for anything in the world, unknowingly broke me. That was the last time I would ever experience that with my own baby.

Her excitement and eagerness after her first sounds, as she imitated her siblings coos  she filled the air of our home with glee but inside my heart had a faint touch of gloom as another first had become my last.

Rocking back and forth on all fours, to speedily chasing me while crawling, using me as her personal walking cane, and to steadily walking independently, each one of those firsts closing those doors I spoke of earlier, little by little. Those firsts, her excitement, all of it would be my last time basking in the newness with my baby.

Sunday I unplugged from it all, emotionally and electronically, I was still. I simply enjoyed watching my littles run and play outside and while doing so Margo conquered another feat for the first time, the stairs. She had climbed up and back down but wouldn’t climb off the last step onto the ground, it was just shy of the tips of her tiny, plump toes and because she couldn’t feel the ground she didn’t trust it was there. I watched patiently and vocally encouraged her to step down, she refused and continued to climb up and down the top steps like a professional. Confusion and frustration painted her face when she would attempt to dismount the last step as she had the previous ones but still falling shy of the tips of her piggies. Finally in a last-ditch effort to get Momma to come rescue her from her island of isolation, she threw her head back and extended her body to throw a temper tantrum and in that instant the tips of her toes met the secure ground they had been searching for and she stopped mid tantrum and hopped off that last step and didn’t check up, running off to get the soccer ball the older littles left deserted in the yard.

Tears crept up in the corners of my eyes as I lovingly watched her run across the yard in nothing but a diaper and a grin, another first that became my last.

Then it dawned on me, what if God is like that with me in my struggles when I feel like I’m stranded on my own island of isolation with nothing but my confusion and frustration and He’s there encouraging me to step off in faith. What if I’m just a tiny piggie away from running wide open to that which I want so desperately?