When Bryan and I decided to have a third child, I promised myself that I would relish EVERY moment this time because I've seen how fast it goes. As I sat many nights in the rocking chair, half asleep, trying to get Izzy to go back to sleep, I didn't get upset or fall asleep. I stared at her little face and tried to ingrain it into my memory. Her tiny little upturned nose and long eye lashes. Her little fingers wrapped around mine. And now she is 5 months old. Those nightly wake-up calls have been over for several months, but when I get one every now and then, I hold her close and thank God for the moment. The chance to hold her in my arms in the middle of the night when everyone else is still asleep. Brayden is down the hall lying neatly under his blankets, the other side of his bed perfectly made. I have to put my hand on his back to make sure he's breathing. Jena is on the other end of the hall, sprawled across her bed, blankets disheveled. She has 2 lamps on because she's scared of the dark. I can't remember the last time I held them in my arms and rocked them in the middle of the night. That's the thing about when kids grow up - you remember the firsts, but not the lasts. Every mom probably remembers the first time their kids sat up, crawled, walked, and said their first words. But how many remember the last time they rocked a crying baby to sleep in the middle of the night? Or the last time they wiped spit-up off a clean shirt? Or the last time they carried their toddler up the stairs before they decided they wanted to do it themself? With Izzy, I'm going to savor every moment like it's a last. Because one of these days too soon, it will be.
Wednesday, November 5, 2008
Savor the Lasts
When Bryan and I decided to have a third child, I promised myself that I would relish EVERY moment this time because I've seen how fast it goes. As I sat many nights in the rocking chair, half asleep, trying to get Izzy to go back to sleep, I didn't get upset or fall asleep. I stared at her little face and tried to ingrain it into my memory. Her tiny little upturned nose and long eye lashes. Her little fingers wrapped around mine. And now she is 5 months old. Those nightly wake-up calls have been over for several months, but when I get one every now and then, I hold her close and thank God for the moment. The chance to hold her in my arms in the middle of the night when everyone else is still asleep. Brayden is down the hall lying neatly under his blankets, the other side of his bed perfectly made. I have to put my hand on his back to make sure he's breathing. Jena is on the other end of the hall, sprawled across her bed, blankets disheveled. She has 2 lamps on because she's scared of the dark. I can't remember the last time I held them in my arms and rocked them in the middle of the night. That's the thing about when kids grow up - you remember the firsts, but not the lasts. Every mom probably remembers the first time their kids sat up, crawled, walked, and said their first words. But how many remember the last time they rocked a crying baby to sleep in the middle of the night? Or the last time they wiped spit-up off a clean shirt? Or the last time they carried their toddler up the stairs before they decided they wanted to do it themself? With Izzy, I'm going to savor every moment like it's a last. Because one of these days too soon, it will be.
I have a blog
What exactly does "blog" mean, anyway? Bear with me as I figure this stuff out! My friends were starting to make me look bad with all their cute mommy blog stuff and I figured since I haven't updated the kids' baby books in years or even started a baby book yet for Izzy, this might be a good way to preserve memories.
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