by Our third born is intended to be our last born; unless a miracle happens. Ideally, I am done with that phase of my life. So, when he arrived and I navigated the madness of a new baby in the house I was glad I was not anticipating doing that again. However, amid these feelings of relief, I had not expected that I would also experience some despair. I would find myself mourning what was, what was not and what would not be.
Don’t get me wrong, I adore my babies. The little one has added so much spice to our lives. He is the baby we had so deeply desired. So, it’s not the baby; it’s entirely me. It’s the feeling of finality, that there are things I did not get to do in my childbearing years and will never get to do. Like never giving birth normally (is CS abnormal?). There are many times I have reminded myself that the important thing is a healthy baby. It consoles me but I can’t help but wonder how different my life would have been. A friend of mine shared with me how she deliberately sought a hospital that would allow her a VBAC (vaginal birth after C-section) with her second child. I kicked myself for not being proactive. Was I a cop out?
I am mourning things I did not get to do with all babies. Like nurse them till they were at least one year old. Especially with our last born. With him I prepared in many more ways than I did with the others but I either failed in the consistency, or it was just not my portion to nurse for long. Blame work and my love for sleep that resulted in formula feeding. Our baby has proven to be one with a very good appetite, more than his brothers, so maybe I was dead in the water on his arrival and would not have been able to keep up anyway. I console myself that God has provided and even with high formula prices, he is about to turn one and he has remained in very good health.
What about the milestones that will be the last. Baby is crawling now, soon he will be walking and eventually he will be off on his own adventures and not needing his mum as the others have done. Am I ready? I think not. There is a stage where the baby is all about their mother. I think it’s the stage that keeps us wanting babies. To be someone’s centre. I marvel at my son’s desire for his mum. I mean, we spend such limited hours together but more often than not he would rather have me take him than his nanny or his dad. It warms my heart most times, breaks my heart when I cannot be with him since I have work or some other stuff to do or because I just need a break. Every of his milestones will be the last with him.
It’s been a web of emotions and although they have not been overwhelming, they are loud enough for me to sit and pay attention. I have already given away many of his infant stage clothes. There will be gadgets and utensils and many other things that I will have to give away or sell eventually and I am not sure whether to laugh or cry at the thought.
However, today I choose to be thankful for a season that has ended well. I am thankful that all my babies arrived alive, whole and healthy and God has a wonderful plan for their life. These CS-born, the formula-fed, (and one pacifier user) will grow to be mighty men of God who will do exploits for him in church and in the marketplace.
Oh, and in a meeting this week I introduced myself and said I have four children. Imagine that! God might have a miracle baby up his sleeve! Ha! Wouldn’t that be something?
