Nine short days ago, I gave birth to my third baby. A little boy.
My last child.
Thrilled and completely drowning in love, we brought him home the next day. I was ready. I had been preparing for this day for months. Preparing for the crying, the feedings, the sleepless nights, and the adjustments my other children would go through.
If I’m being honest, I had been scared. Petrified, really. Wondering how we would juggle it all and get through the first weeks.
And yet now all I can hear is the ticking of a clock that is counting these fleeting moments. These last experiences with a newborn. And it is deafening.
There will be no more pregnancy tests. No more shaking hands as I stare in disbelief at two pink lines. Nights awake as I consider the future, our child’s future, and all the plans we have to make.
All I can hear is the ticking of a clock counting these fleeting moments. And it is deafening. Share on XThis is the last time I will go through the journey of pregnancy, difficult as it is for me. The last time I will experience the joy of first seeing my child on an ultrasound screen. The final time I will feel the initial flutters of movement that eventually turn into all out kicks and punches.
Never again will I go through labor. Feel the increasing intensity of contractions as a baby wills himself out of my womb. Go through the excruciating pain of delivery immediately followed by the transcendent euphoria of a newborn being laid on my chest for the very first time.
No more golden hours. Moments that span a lifetime as a newborn gazes up at me and slowly inches towards my breast. Tears of joy as I hold this precious gift in my arms and make a million promises of love and protection. A heart bursting full.
This is the last time I will bring a newborn home from the hospital. Driving 10 miles under the speed limit. Introduce the baby to his siblings and the dog before laying him in his bassinet for the first time. Dress him in his lovingly selected clothes purchased months before he was even born.
I will never again stay up all night, watching my baby breathe. Caressing his hair and cheek as I marvel at the miracle of his arrival. Pick him up to nurse in the dark, snuggling him close and loving the feel of his breath on my skin. Feel satisfied when he finally pulls away, drunk with milk dribbling down his chin. Smiling as he stretches his tiny arms above his head.
No more first smiles. Gummy, wet smiles that make my heart nearly leap out of my chest. Radiant eyes that light up my soul as they cast their beaming warmth over my tired, wrinkled face.
This is the last time I will hear a baby’s first coo. Lyrics of perfect contentment sung out of pink pursed lips. Gentle chirps followed by soft sighs of happiness.
Never again will I pump milk in the middle of the night. Soothed by the rhythmic whirring of a machine that chants whi-SHOO, whi-SHOO as it fills bottles with food for my baby.
No more obsessions over ounces gained and inches grown. Amazed by this infant who is literally sprouting into a little boy before my eyes. Willing his baby hands and feet to slow down, just a little.
These are the final tummy time sessions. The angry cries of a frustrated baby who wants no part of lifting his head off the ground. The encouragement and cheers once he does. The stunned face of an infant who has just rolled himself over for the first time.
And the last hours of perfect cuddles. Falling asleep under the comforting weight of a baby resting his head on my shoulder. Holding, forever holding, wanting to cherish every second before he’s too big to be cradled or pulls away to run and play. Smelling his sweet baby head and drinking in every sound and expression.
Ultimately, this is the last era of innocence. My final moments sharing the purest forms of love and trust with someone else. The last time I will ever be needed so wholly, so completely.
I feel lonely already.
So I squeeze him a bit tighter. Whisper into his delicate ear. And breathe him in as he clutches my fingers and begins to peek out at the world around him.
While the clock continues to tick.
This post is lovely. I wish I would have spent more time living in the moment with our son. He is our only and last. And even though I made the conscience effort to soak it all up, it still feels like it was only yesterday he was so tiny. Now he is four and smart and wonderful. Thank you for sharing!
It is so difficult because it goes so quickly, and we’re sleep deprived and trying to manage it all. Thank you for your comment!
Those moments really are fleeting! I always go back to the feeling of my daughter asleep on my chest. It really is the best and is so short lived.
That is the BEST – nothing in the world beats it.
It is sad! I’m at this stage too with my 3 year old. I can’t believe how fast time goes!!
It’s SO bittersweet! Wanting them to get older to experience more, while also wanting them to remain our babies forever.
I feel this way everyday! And it’s with my first! I love EVERY moment but get overwhelmingly sad when I think of how fleeting it is! I wouldn’t trade it for the world!!! I would stop time if I could! Thanks for words spoken so eloquently!
Thank you, Stacy!! I wake up every day to find him changing and growing – I wish I could stop time, like you said.
If you stop time you never get to see them grow. Sometimes I wonder what it would be like to do this forever, to keep having children and soaking in the newness of their scents and marvel at the wonder of it all and have eternity to do it in. Seems like eternity until we realize they’re off to college. I just started my journey and I can’t TAKE it with these posts. It’s like tearing out my heart because nobody ever knows Gods plan for our lives and how many He will give us or how we will ‘birth’ babies. Adoption, fostering, natural birthing from our own womb, etc. I’m terrified but after the first year I think I’ve realized I don’t want to stop with one more. But let’s have one more first then we’ll talk 😉
I understand. Even though I KNOW we are done, there is the teensiest tiniest piece of me that can’t accept it – and thinks maybe, just maybe, one day…
Yes, they grow up too fast and it’s a different feeling when you know it’s your last baby. Try not to think about all the lasts and enjoy the new beginning! 🙂
This is so beautiful, Faye! Thank you for writing it. I was just discussing this very topic with a friend, how hard it would be knowing that this baby is the last one. It’s amazing how quickly they grow into a child and stop being your baby; only a mother can understand.
Yes, it is so bittersweet, isn’t it? I waffle between being excited for him to grow and experience more, and wanting him to stay my baby forever.
Chills and tears. Loving your loving.
Thank you so much, Anna!!
Lovely. It is so sad. We only intend to have the two, and my youngest is now 21 months – it goes far too fast!
It does!! I wish they would just stay little.
I only had one child but you have brought back all the feelings I had about him as a newborn. I didn’t know he was going to be the only one at the time, but I still savored every second on his babyhood. I’ve had the joy of holding two more special newborns, my grandsons. The thing is they are growing up even faster than my own did, being on the periphery and not be present for the daily grind. Beautiful piece and congratulations on your new son.
Thank you so much, Molly! I’m so glad you were able to savor those moments – with your own son and now your grandsons! It can be hard to stay present while in the thick of it – I’m constantly trying to remind myself.