laborofwonder

Where Whine Meets Wine

No Longer A Baby


I know, I know… how can I even show my face around here? And I deserve it. Leaving you all high and dry. Ok, so maybe I’m being a little dramatic. But bear with me. I’ve been parenting and vacationing and organizing and garage saling and birthday-ing and working… you know, living. I do have happy news, I have had consistent clients from the get go, which is pretty exciting if you ask me! In fact, I have clients through February! (How awesome is that?!)

But the thing that drew me back here… well, really I’ve been thinking about doing a post for over a week now. Sharing various stories and laughs and pictures, but the thing that made it necessary to do today… is simple. Littlest is 2. I know, I know…it does seem like just yesterday I was recounting his birth (horrors and wonders alike)! And then I was dealing with the aftermath of his birth around his first birthday.

And now here we are, his second birthday. My baby is two years old.  My baby is no longer actually a baby. My house will no longer contain any babies. My house will never again be home to a baby. A baby will never again belong to me. Do you see the digression? Do you feel it? I feel it. I’m pretty sure I’ve been feeling it for about a month. I’ve become incredibly emotional and perhaps even a little irrational. You see, I would’ve been the little old woman who lived in a shoe, who had so many children she didn’t know what to do… and I would’ve liked it that way. Lots of people look forward to the end of babyhood and enjoy toddlerville and the elementary years; I am not them. Ok, that’s not entirely true- I do enjoy toddlerville and I am enjoying the beginning of our elementary years. But I am not a mama who looks forward to babies no longer being babies.

Obviously (as I’ve said before, I know), I would never trade Littlest’s sweet self for the option to have more children. But it is still bittersweet to watch him grown and to know that this is the end of babyhood. And childbearing. I’m even sad that I’ll never labor and birth another baby. That’s right, I’m in that deep.

But in the midst of the sadness, there is this deep thankfulness and joy. I have my boy and I get to witness his growth! My itty-bitty boy who never should have survived the pregnancy and his mama who almost bled out without anyone noticing. I have him. I cuddle him. I teach him. I try to ignore him listen to him. I love him. And looking at him today, I still see the miracle he was the day he was born, and the miracle he’s been every day in between.

The day we brought him home

Littlest E, you will always be the baby (as all of my children will always be my babies) and a constant reminder that miracles happen every day and to every day people. I am so, so blessed and thankful to be your mama. Happy birthday, my boy.

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On This Day (I Thee Birthed)


I had been having inconsistent contractions for a month. My mom had flown in to join us as we awaited our little man, unknowing it would be weeks of waiting. I had to sit in a very awkward position just to breathe, as his little legs were jammed up in my ribs. I went in for a baby check and my dr. wanted to induce  in a couple days. Fluid levels and everything looked fine. I even packed my bags and headed to the hospital a few days later for the induction. I never had a sense of “this is the day my baby will be born,” but I probably had just always imagined being in labor when I came to that conclusion. After being checked and hearing a brief summarization of what their plan was… I packed up my bags and went back home. I was told they’d “give me” another week but no more. (To which I stubbornly stick out my tongue and say pbbthhhh.) And it didn’t matter. A couple days later, after a full day of walking the beaches, picking up shells, and doing some shopping along one of the cutest little seaside towns you’ve ever seen…I had regular contractions. In fact, I sat down while my mom and hubbyman browsed in the final shop of the day. This was 9 days after my due date, they both had pretty much given up on the idea I’d ever have this baby, but I just knew this was the start of the path that would lead me to my baby.

the "bump" is him sticking his little booty out

Almost 24 hours later, he arrived. And life has never been the same. And I wouldn’t have it any other way!

My dearest firstborn,

I love you. I love the way your eyes dance when you laugh. The way you furrow your brow when you’re trying really hard or trying to figure something out. I love the way you give hugs- especially your bear hugs. Even if I don’t always appreciate that they knock me over. I love the way you talk to your siblings, at least most of the time. Besides, who else would show them to tell them how to be an animal that jumps like a frog, roars like a lion, and whimpers like a puppy?  Or how to scale furniture and then leap off? Who would show them how to make the biggest  fort? Or teach them not to be afraid of the dark, because you think the dark is fun. Or how to say your prayers. How to use your manners, how to brush your teeth. The things you are teaching your siblings whether intentionally or through example, is amazing, and we are thankful for it. Almost all the time. I am thankful for YOU all the time. Your sweet spirit, your love, your cuddles, and even your sense of adventure. I am so proud to be your mama.

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