Over the course of the last week I have been slowly slipping through a downward spiral. It took me a couple of days to figure out why this was happening and where it stemmed from. Now I know...and I'm even more depressed than I was not knowing.
My baby is turning one in two days. It's a huge milestone for him and a wakeup call for me. I will never carry another baby in my womb...unless my tubes aren't tied tightly enough. I will never have another sweet little love suckling at my breast or sleeping peacefully, swaddled tightly in my arms. I will never witness another first smile or hear a first word. My days of being a mommy to an infant are history. Soren is growing up and although I find his growth and development wonderfully exciting, I am mourning the end of his infancy knowing that I'll never get to experience the wonder and innocence of infancy again.
I am so deeply in love with this child and where he's at right now that I want to freeze time and keep him on the cusp of toddlerhood indefinitely. This age is so magical and I want it to last as long as it can. I don't remember feeling this way when Nolan turned one, and I'm sure that it has to do with the fact that I knew Nolan would not be my last child. But Soren is my last child, unless God intervenes in a completely unexpected and miraculous way, and I'm feeling a huge sense of loss.
I could very well be completely over-reacting and many people may rightfully call me ridiculous, but nonetheless this sadness is my reality. My heart hurts. I look forward to what lies ahead with both my children, but for a gal who has always had a difficult time living in the moment instead of "what if-ing" and planning out her future...this moment feels really good and I'd like it to remain.
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