Welcome to the next in a series of motherhood posts guest written by Amy, mother of two young boys, over at Raising Men, Finding Me. I fell in love with her writing style instantly. It’s simple but adorned with the kind of beauty and insight that only authenticity can offer. I feel so honored that Amy has agreed to share her intimate world of motherhood in her lovely and touching style once a month here on Wish List. And I have a feeling she’ll connect with so many of you mothers out there, perhaps in a way I can’t. Here are her words, her thoughts, all rooted in love.
This past week, my youngest child turned two. For me, the second birthday is a big deal because the baby years are gone. Since there will be no more baby years in our home, I say farewell to the around-the-clock feedings, trying to soothe the inconsolable crying, tending to the diaper rash while changing the blow-out diaper by the glowing night light, wiping baby spit-up off my shirt, feeling scared-to-death when he spiked a fever for the first time, freezing wash cloths and plastic rings to ease the pain of teething, gently swaying him on my hip while waiting in the line at the coffee shop, the grocery store, and the dry cleaners, doing the laundry (oh, the never-ending laundry), living on take-out pizza, cheerios and reheated coffee, swearing at the supposed â€œleak-proofâ€ sippy cup that just leaked milk all over the car seat â€“ again, holding an overstuffed diaper bag on one shoulder while collapsing the â€œsingle-handedâ€ stroller in a hundred degree heat, fretting over every decision while learning to live with guilt and insecurity of it all. Those hard, how-am-I-going-to-get-through-this baby years.
And then, I remember feeling him grow inside of me â€“ the first time I felt the butterfly flutter of his movement, and when I would rub his bottom through my large belly when he kicked me after I had drank a fizzy drink. I remember when the doctor couldnâ€™t get him out – the quiet in the operating room and the silent prayer I offered up for his safe delivery. I remember taking long walks in the middle of winter with him and his older brother all bundled up under cozy blankets in the double stroller (it was the only way to get him to nap while occupying his brother with hot cocoa as I sipped on a much-needed mocha coffee). The endless nursing sessions. The feeling of having him fall asleep in my arms and lay on me all night. The way that his hair smelled after a bath. The first time he said, â€œMama.â€ Those delicious, soak-them-up-while-they-last baby years.
As I frosted his birthday cake on the morning of his party, I thought of those baby years gone by â€“ the hard and the delicious. I will miss it all. I am excited, however, for all that is to come in the years ahead.
Happy second birthday, my sweet boy, and thank you for making our little family complete.
Read Amy’s other guest posts HERE.