The Firsts and Lasts of Parenthood

Sweet Leo James is five months old.

We are quickly saying goodbye to the newborn stage of him, the deep and all-day couch snuggles are being traded for the action and activities that come with a growing baby.

This change-up is so, so good. And I’m so, so sad.

I’ve been thinking about when Elsie was making this transition - all of it was exciting and new. I was thrilled to buy the next size up in baby clothes, and tuck her old things into a bin for the next baby. When she moved from the bassinet to her own room, it was exciting. We tucked the bassinet into the attic and there it sat for five years as we waited for her baby brother’s arrival. The first smile we celebrated. The first giggle. The first rollover. The first crawl. The first step. I craved all of the firsts and was so focused on the nexts.

I was looking ahead. Every next-thing was intoxicating. The windshield was right in front of me and the headlights were on bright.

I think I wish I stayed a little more in the moment back then. And also, the newborn stage is just not fair, because it’s so fast and you’re so tired and you’re navigating a big new world and trying to figure so much out, including and not limited to the new life you just welcomed. But you know what they say about hindsight.

And so right now, I feel myself looking back. The rear-view mirror is fogging up for me. I’m savoring the time so much more, which is a gift in itself. Those firsts with him, you better believe we celebrate and we hold on tight to, but the fact that they are our last firsts, that’s a lot for me to handle. But I’m handling it. And I can see it coming at me like a freight train - the last first step, that last first haircut, the last first diaper - all of it is so, so good. But so, so sad.

We moved Leo into his room over the weekend. And this time the bassinet isn’t going in our attic, it’s going out the front door. It’s not being saved for my next baby, but handed down to a family member for their first. I’m packing away a few of my favorite newborn sleepers, but just for the memories of how little he was and for nothing else.

Thrift stores are getting a lot.

I am so, so happy. And so, so sad. My heart is so full but it also hurts a little.

How do we mourn things we are so blessed and happy for? What is this crazy dichotomy of feelings?

After we had dinner last night, and settled in with a glass of wine, Joey and I looked down and saw Elsie playing with Leo on his playmat. They were both giggling. That was a first, and won’t be a last.

I take a deep breath because that freight train is coming and there’s nothing I can do to stop it, or even slow it down. And I don’t want to.

I’m jumping on board.

XOXO