Today, I was folding some washing and I came across the little Christmas outfits. In my mind I said to myself “I’ll put these up for next time”. And then I’m hit with the reminder. There is no next time for these outfits.
There’s no more wrangling babies dressed as elves or mini Santa’s and plonking them on Santa’s knee trying to get a perfect Christmas photo.
These little outfits have gone through 4 different children, they’ve done their job and now it’s time to retire them.
How do I tell my heart that?
My mind says that I cannot handle any more babies, my body (last pregnancy) told me that I cannot handle any more babies but my heart is not ready to deal with any of that. My heart wants babies and lots of them.
My heart can’t accept that never again will I excitedly collect pee in a paper cup dipping a stick into it anxiously waiting for the results.
My heart can’t accept never feeling the first little flutters of life growing inside me.
My heart can’t accept that I will never again see one of my own babies via an ultra sound, guessing if I was having a boy or a girl.
My heart can’t stop browsing through the newborn clothes at the shops looking for bargains to put up for the next one.
My heart can’t accept that there will never be a warm and wriggly freshly born baby placed in my arms and that I will never again feel that overwhelming feeling of relief and instant love. And that smell *sigh* that beautiful newborn smell.
My heart can’t accept that there will be no more nervous first car rides home from the hospital. The 4th ride was just as nerve wracking as the first!
My heart can’t accept that there’s no more. That this is it.
My heart isn’t done yet.
I cherished every moment with my babies. I sniffed them so many times so I wouldn’t forget. I took millions of photos so I wouldn’t forget. I’ve smiled, laughed, cried and never been prouder of these 4 little boys but there’s still this part of me that wants to do it all again and I mean ALL OF IT. The morning sickness, the pain of labour, those early awkward days of breastfeeding, the sleepless nights – all of it. I’d love to see B4 as a big brother. I’d love to give my boys a sister.
For a fleeting moment I consider options of how this could work, of how I could have just one more but then I look at the chaos around me and realise it just wouldn’t be fair to bring a baby into this life.
Maybe Mr Right is just around the corner and wants this as much as I do. Maybe not. Whatever will be, will be I suppose.
For now I just sigh and with a very heavy heart fold those little outfits, that hold so many memories, for the very last time.