>> Wednesday, May 13, 2015

All those tiny onesies and clothes with snaps closures have been carefully packed away. The crib has been in storage for almost a year. Sippy cups gave way years ago to water bottles and drinking glasses. Bean sprout legs no longer rest still in a sling or carrier. Diapers are long gone, too -- even at night. The monitor is there mostly for show these days. And there’s not a single item I’ve needed in the Target baby aisles for quite some time.

We always knew we’d want to have our kids a good distance apart. And by that, I mean around 3-4 years, which really isn’t some gigantic gap. Still, we’re surrounded by friends with much closer ranges and -- everywhere we go -- it seems siblings sprout up like so many dandelions. This whole childbearing stage is like spring, bursting and blooming with life and love. There’s a special magic to it, but I’d be lying if I didn’t share I feel outside all that’s happening.

I felt this way even before everything that happened recently. Ada may only be three and a half, but in so many ways, she’s quickly transitioned from baby to toddler to preschooler. I just got her medical forms for pre-K. Actual state school, five mornings a week next year. The ages and stages all went so fast, but now that many of the milestones are gone, I’m floundering.

Where did the time go?
How are we here already?
What does it mean for me/our family?

Now that we’re beyond all those baby and toddler stages, I have no foot in those waters anymore. I’m unbelievably envious of the moms who tote tiny ones on their hips everywhere. I can’t remember what that feels like. I can’t remember what it feels like to hold a newborn. When I get the chance to hold a baby, I adjust my arms a gazillion times because I don’t feel like I’m doing it right. And I have no idea in what month babies start solids, when they begin to crawl, or at what age their first words start emerging in nonsensical babbling.

I always wondered what it would feel like without a tiny tot in the house, I just didn’t realize I’d get a taste so soon. I have shared many too many times that I (we) hope to have another child. I am immensely grateful for Ada. I love her so much, but I (we) have always dreamed of two children. So, and this might sound silly, all this can feel scary at times. The distance. The forgetting. Like I’m so out of practice, so removed . . . it might just never happen again. Of course, I’m not the first person to have a child and then down the line hope to have another five or more years later.

But when you’re packing up the last of all the baby stuff without another one on the way or to pass the outgrown clothes to, it sure feels final. Maybe it is, I keep questioning.

I found myself a tad overwhelmed while flipping through old photos yesterday afternoon. Maybe that’s where this venting originated. I looked at our lives just over three years ago in absolute wonder. That was ME? That was ADA? (Also: Check out Stephen’s fabulous HAIR!)

I looked at a few shots of my pregnant belly and can’t remember what the kicks and rolls feel like. The swollen feet or ongoing Braxton Hicks that plagued me. Or how relentless the early months of nursing and no sleep can be. Some of this stuff I don’t miss too much, but -- more than anything else -- I simply feel like it’s all over. Like it won’t happen again. Not because I don’t have faith it will . . . I just feel far removed.


Does that make sense? I think a lot of this also has to do with the fact that eventually I’ll be seeing that fertility doctor. I have to deal with my diagnosed “infertility” again. I can’t have that cute story where we only thought something was wrong all those months we tried and then magically I got pregnant and everything was fine. Tied up in a bow. No, there’s definitely a pattern of weirdness, and I don’t know what the outcome will be. I guess that’s life.

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