Baby feet are cute, but I'm over it. Or am I?
The babyman is growing fast. We’re rapidly approaching month 10 of life with a baby boy, and while we are thrilled and delighted with each new stage of his babyhood, we also breathe a sigh of relief with each new milestone met.
No more baby bathtub! No more receiving blankets! No more night-time feedings!
With each developmental stage, we bid a fond farewell to our days as parents of an infant. Now, he is firmly entrenched in babyhood, with toddler just around the corner. I can’t wait to watch him run on the beach, eat cake with his hands, and cross formula off my shopping list.
We’re done. Two is a nice, even number. So why is it so hard for me to part with the trappings? The wee onesies and footie pajamas? The impossibly small socks? The bouncy seat and the changing table pad?
We gave away one of our swings, and a friend has the bassinet. I didn’t think twice about sending it off: Mazel tov! Use it in good health!
But the red Carter’s pajamas I bought at Wal-Mart? The cheap ones, with the footballs on them, size 12 months? Those I keep washing and folding, washing and folding, reluctant to stow them in the dusty plastic bags filled with clothes intended for the consignment shop when the right season rolls around.
A few things mingle with the outgrown dresses and striped leggings that belonged to The Poo, but when the preschool swap rolled around, I only tossed a few of these items into the back of my car.
Last year, I watched as strangers walked off with the trappings of The Poo’s first year in plastic bags. It hurt, and that surprised me. Especially considering that Shaggy was still firmly ensconced in my belly at that point. The stuff I really couldn’t bear to part with, I either sent to friends or stowed away to take out and look at when The Poo is grown and gone.
My pregnancy with Shaggy was so upsetting and hard that six months ago I was giddy with the idea that I would never! ever! again! have to sleep-train an infant. I would never! ever! again! throw up for seven months. I would never! ever! again! have my uterus sliced open (God willing) by that totally! crazy! doctor!
I know intellectually that we’re done. Super done. Aaaaaaaalllllll the way done. Stick a fork in me, we’re done!
So why does that fork hurt so much sometimes?
{ 15 comments… read them below or add one }
Um. My youngest brother is 12 (14 year age gap) and his stroller is still in my mother’s attic.
Whereas we are planning on one more (two IS a nice number!), There are STILL things of Ele’s I don’t think I’ll ever use again let alone get rid of. That one REALLY cute outfit I bought at Janie and Jack on a KILLER clearance (like $7) that she later stained up to high hell…. It’s set aside from the rest of her “baby” clothes and safe from the garbage because I took some insanely (well, to me) cute pictures of her in it- A YEAR AGO.
Sigh. Keep the footie pajamas.
SOME of the clothes my mother had me in at Ele’s age I wish she’d saved. I was one stylin’ toddler.
laughing about the commenter above, whose mom still has the stroller.
i get it. we wanted two. they’re lovely, and the road to them was cruel. my OB has dumped me and told me no more. and they both had COLIC, fer god’s sake!
yet seeing the last things go and saying never again is hard. i think it may be because much as these infant years are brutal, there’s a part of me that knows i will look back on them wistfully later and understand how happy and lucky i’ve been in having them. or something like that. it’s like maybe i think if i had just one more, i’d get it right.
I totally understand. My second is only 5 months old and spent 8 weeks in the NICU; we are totally done. However, when I hear of friends that are pregnant–I’m jealous!
Heh. Careful! When I announced to the world that I was done, 2 being a good number, etc, I IMMEDIATELY got pregnany again. So I have 3. Which is also a good number!
Nan’s last blog post..The Saga Continues…
I don’t think in our hearts we are ever done having babies. All along I wanted more than the healthy boy and girl I had and my secret wish was to have four children. Every month I wanted another baby. Common sense kept me from having one, but my heart told me I needed one badly. Looking back now, I wished I had just done it.
Irene’s last blog post..Monday afternoon.
My baby is 8 and asking for a brother after realizing I am getting um, OLD, and won’t be able to put out siblings much longer.
But we are long through and on occasion, I wish I was starting over, even with the puking and misery.
It always passes, especially when I scoop them off the bus and we chase big adventures.
Lisa Milton’s last blog post..the dance
Because done, like really done, is a time of mourning in some ways. It’s the realization that the boy growing to be a toddler might be the last baby you cuddle into your neck. The realization that this might be the last time you smell the newborn smell.
You know, I may not be making it any better. Let me try this, it will be the end of screamy newborns that can’t be asked what the heck they want. The end of formula, which I am with you, is so dang expensive. The end of washing bottles and trying to find a pacifier at 2am when you know you own about 200 of them.
But the end is still sad in some ways. Even if you are ready for it.
Issa’s last blog post..Guest post: One step forward, three steps back
Oh and if you love them, keep the footy pajamas. Truly, a few things can’t hurt.
Also, be careful…because many people say they are done and then suddenly, they get one more.
My mom swears that at some point, you get to the place where you are okay with the number of children you have and don’t wish you’d had more. But generally she says it’s when they get older and the major milestones are fewer and farther between. It’s like the, oh he walked and that might be the last baby walking I will EVER see in my life; hurts your uterus in some way. (I am not dramatic at all, nope not me.) The, oh she learned how to tell me off with cuss words, doesn’t really do the same thing to you.
Issa’s last blog post..Guest post: One step forward, three steps back
Well, I’m near tears. My first (and probably only) child will be one in eight days. This weekend, I went through the bins in his closet, pulling out things too small for him to wear anymore (pretty much anything under the 12-18-month range), my eyes watering. Luckily, a friend is expecting a baby boy, so like you, I am pulling out the really good stuff for her. But, yes, next weekend is the garage sale and it’s gonna be hard. I’m hoping I keep it together and don’t cry when the red velvet overalls I made him wear on his first Christmas go home with someone else. OK, gotta go, I’m getting choked up over this…
Kerrie’s last blog post..Shuffle Shuffle vs Click Clack
Our second children were born on the same day, Ms. Chicken. She is my last, too. And I share your pain of knowing you are done with pregnancy, newborns, et. al., but it still hurts so much to think of all the never-agains…no more kicks to your bladder, no more teensy diapers, no more sweet baby coos, no more rocking a wee one on your lap. But you couldn’t pay me enough to go through pregnancy and the newborn stage again. We must learn to want what we already have and say it is enough. Because my two kids? They are enough. More than enough. : )
I will always feel a tinge of jealousy when someone announces a pregnancy. I know I will. But we are done, done sticking forks in my eyes done too. The surgeon made that abundantly clear that I should NOT have any more children. And I’m not so sure I could handle a fourth anyway.
On the bright side, think of all the space you’ll have (baby gear takes up A LOT of space) and you’ll be able to go do more fun things with your kids when they are both older.
Keep a few special outfits. (My mom did and then my girls were able to wear some of my old clothes.) And get your baby fixes when your friends have babies…and when the baby poops you can hand her back to the mom!
Heather’s last blog post..Where Did These Kids Come From Then?
So crazy, I’ve been trying to write my own version of this post for the past four days and can’t seem to stop wandering off into tangents that just don’t work. We’re done at two (snip snip), but I spent Monday at the park jealously eyeing two pregnant friends and one with a newborn. Makes no sense, but then again having babies in the first place didn’t really make sense either.
Definitely save some of your favorites. My son wore some of my husband’s baby clothes that my MIL saved — and maybe one day my grandson will wear them too. http://juniandpip.blogspot.com/2009/03/growing-boy.html
Cyndi’s last blog post..A Prescription for What Ails You
My son is 18 months old. I know I need to get rid of the onesies and stuff, but I just haven’t been able to bring myself to do it. I keep hoping that we’ll try for one more…
becky’s last blog post..Behind blue eyes
I know that even though hubby was ‘fixed’ for years-I still was saddened a bit when friends got pregnant or when I would get my ‘friend’ every month. It took a good number of years for me to really be okay with not having any more babies. I still have a stash of baby clothes in the attic that I just simply part with, I think that is okay. Hugs my friend.
Domestic Extraordinaire’s last blog post..Giggles circa 1980something
I know we’re done too and I still feel pangs at times. I truly don’t want another baby. Truly do not want to go all the way back to square one, but still, my uterus aches sometimes looking at cute baby (feet) pictures.
Save the onesies and jammies. Even if 10 years from now you look at them and no longer want to keep them around, until then they will bring you comfort and help you remember how teeny your boy was once.
Kimberly’s last blog post..Our annual opening of the pool