With both my girls, I was always looking forward to their firsts. First smile. First time rolling over. First steps. First words. I was always anticipating those next milestones. Sometimes I even wanted to speed them along so we could experience what was to come next. But with Briggs, it's a little different. Yes, I'm excited about his firsts and will celebrate each one that comes along. But it's a little bittersweet because, with Briggs, I will also be more aware of his lasts. As a woman in her late 30's (let's be honest--pushing 40) with 3 kids under the age of 5, another baby doesn't seem to be in the cards for us. And so, with each phase of life that Briggs passes up, it will be a last for us.
I know that all the lasts won't be filled with sadness and nostalgia. I probably won't be sad about our last middle of the night feeding. I'll probably handle it okay when we've experienced our last diaper blowout. And I won't shed a tear about the last time I get spit up down my shirt. But I know there will be a last time my little baby falls asleep on my chest. I know there will be last time that he can wear those teeny-tiny diapers and itty-bitty socks. There will be a last bath in the baby bathtub. There will be a last time he wraps his little hand around my finger. And eventually there will be a last time he sits on my lap, a last time he calls me 'Mommy', a last bed time story, a last lunch I pack, a last graduation.
And so, I am trying to appreciate these little baby moments. In the midst of the craziness of our life, I'm trying to take the time to hold and cuddle this little bundle that fits so nicely in my arms. I am trying to soak in Briggs' baby-ness. Because, before I know it, my last baby won't be a baby anymore.