Just like the that, the baby phase is over. It’s been a difficult decision for my husband and me, as we figure out what we think our family will look like. You can dream and plan but there are variables that can’t be anticipated. We came by our decision with a great deal of thought, prayer and soul searching. There was also logic. Our three bedroom house that we just moved to; our ages; my increasingly difficult pregnancies and deliveries. We talked about it a lot and the biggest thing holding us back from making the final call was that something about our family felt incomplete.
Yet, we had to remind ourselves that we lost a child to miscarriage. I suspect this feeling of incompleteness will always be there, regardless of how many children we add to our family. Because we are incomplete, at least for now. Just as this world will never feel totally comfortable since it was never intended to be our permanent home (at least not in its broken state), so will we carry a certain level of emptiness for the child we are missing. There is great and beautiful hope, but we still feel the lack.
I’ve tried to write this multiple times. But I couldn’t quite find the way to express it. To talk about how it feels to know that there won’t be anymore babies. To mourn what could have been but to be excited about what is coming. I am someone who loves the baby phase. Despite the not sleeping, I just love that first year and a half as this new person is growing and discovering the world. Their needs are relatively simple and they take joy in the little things. While I love my older kids, I haven’t found the same enjoyment in their more complicated issues, strong opinions and the general chaos of the days.
But I have learned to cultivate excitement for this next season of life. A friend recently talked about how she feels like she is transitioning to the Renaissance of her life. She refers to the time when her kids were tiny as the Dark Ages. Of course she enjoyed her children, but life was hard. There wasn’t much money, time or energy to be had. It was survival mode. But now that her kids are a bit older and she is done with night time feedings, diapers and potty training, there are so many new things available to her. There is time for art, culture and travel. She is learning a new instrument and she has picked up a new career. Her point was that there is beauty and happiness coming. I found this hugely encouraging.
That is what I’ve chosen to focus on. I am likely less than two years away from being diaper free. As much as I have loved cloth diapering, I’m ready to be done. My kids generally sleep at night. Soon my kids will be able to do more for themselves. There will be time for me to be creative; both by myself and with them. I am looking forward to this.
With any time of transition, it hurts a bit and it’s easy to have doubts. I’m allowing myself to experience the sadness and remember fondly the things I know I will be giving up. But I’m also keeping my focus firmly in today, as I watch this last little one getting bigger by the day. I try to pause to soak him in. Then I turn my eyes forward toward what is to come; all the difficulties but also the beauty and wonder that comes with it.
