I remember shopping for their cribs years before we had them. Back when we decided to start trying. Back when I thought you decided to have a baby–and had one nine months later. Back when I thought *that* was how it worked.
It would be years before that crib–or the babies it held–would finally make their way into our home.
. . .
My friends bought us his crib when he was a few months old–the second best gift anyone’s ever given us–second to him. He’d slept in a bassinet in our room since he was born. Because I wanted him there–right there next to me. But it was time.
I remember the first night he slept up in his nursery. I sat in the rocking chair across from his crib for almost an hour after I’d laid him down–watching his little chest rise and fall through the crib’s slats.
I remember thanking my lucky stars for him–for all of it. I remember thinking it was going so quickly though–he was growing so fast. And I remember crying–because I felt like I was saying goodbye to my baby.
. . .
It’s been four years. We’ve had two babies sleep in–and climb out of–that crib. And we’ve decided we’re not having any more babies. So it’s time to say goodbye.
Goodbyes are hard for me–especially this one. And I’ve shed a few tears. Because I’m saying goodbye to the crib–and to the babies. And because I’m realizing time really is fleeting. It’s precious–and it’s fleeting.
No more nights spent with my arms hanging over the crib rails–humming and singing–and rubbing tiny arched backs. No more stealth exits creeping from the floor next to the crib to the door–after staying until they were really asleep. No more way-too-early morning smiles from a happy baby who couldn’t wait for his mommy to scoop him up above the sides of the crib he loved to gum.
Goodbye crib–and goodbye babies. That’s a hard goodbye for a mom who wasn’t sure she’d ever have either.
And goodbye time–precious, fleeting time. I’m keenly aware of your passing now. Thanks for the memories.
. . .
Sometimes it’s all too much–this world of ours.
Thinking of all the mommies who lost their babies this morning (because no matter how old they are, they’re always our babies)–and holding mine a little closer this evening. And praying for peace there, here and everywhere. XOXO.