I decided recently to get rid of all, yes ALL, of my baby things. Clothes, gear, blankets, bedding...everything. In some ways, I feel like I am standing right at the end of a diving board. I am almost ready to dive into that phase of life called "done with having babies," but there's a part of me that becomes panic stricken at the thought. I watched Graham running into the park in front of me the other day, and fear seized my heart. It was almost as if I could feel the last shreds of his babyhood seeping away.
I pulled the dusty bins of baby stuff off the garage shelves today and began the task of going through everything. So many memories were entangled with various pieces of clothing. The onesie Isaac wore the day after his first seizure. The feel of a freshly bathed baby in my arms with his fuzzy footy jammies. The shirt my mom bought Isaac in hopes for a photoshoot with my best friend's little girl. Days at the park. Nights snuggled together in bed. I found myself smelling some of the pieces of clothing, hoping to get the scent of those moments. All I could smell was the faint hint of stale fabric softener.
So many days crawl by when you are a mama to young children. There are many times where you want to scream at the clock to move a bit faster, to those days when the endless needs of little ones will finally be lessened. Today wasn't one of those days. I want to make it stop, and hold onto my babies for just a moment longer.
Indoor Herb Garden
1 year ago