The Finality Of The “Caboose”
That last baby…
Not everyone has this luxury, but I knew when I had my youngest that he would be the last. He would forever be our caboose. I am and always have been okay with that decision.
I didn’t realize, though, how final it would feel.
I mean, I knew I’d have to savor each and every moment because it would be the last time we would do this or that. But I didn’t know I would feel such sorrow and loss with each “last.”
I’m not a crier. I am not a soft hearted person at all. But more and more lately I find myself having teary moments realizing that things are ending.
He will (hopefully- come on LPSS lottery) go to Pre-K in the fall. I came to the realization the other day that we will be leaving our daycare- the place that’s been our safety net for so many years. They know us. They know our family. And we will have to say goodbye soon.
I recently purged my home. I had held on to many things for far longer than I did with my older children. I had so much trouble separating with those baby clothes, bottles, pacifiers, etc. I knew the time had long passed, but I just wanted to hang on a little longer. I sat in the floor in his room and just held those baby clothes.
I find myself not wanting things to end. I know we will never get that back. I know we will never have a 3 year old again. I know we will never play tee ball again. I know things will never be the same again. And it all makes me weepy.
I don’t know if this is normal, but each “last” feels like a loss.
I mourn another little loss of “babyness.” My son is growing up, and I am mourning that baby that he once was.
I will get through this. There will be many more “lasts.” But for now, I’ll just embrace the fact that I’m a crier now. I’ll mourn the final everything, then I’ll move on to the next.
