No More Babies

The past few days have been hard.

Too many reminders lately that I am no longer a "young" mom-- that I no longer have babies.

* The emails I still get from the Wiggles, even though Drew hasn't been interested in them in nearly two years. I just can't bring myself to unsubscribe.

* The "play dates" the moms in the ward plan for their toddlers. I'm not included anymore-- no need.

* Walking through Publix or Sam's Club alone in the morning, passing by the cookie counter, knowing there is no one with me eligible for a free sugar cookie with sprinkles.

* The bulk-box of baby wipes sitting underneath Eve's bed that hasn't been touched in nearly six months since her last diaper.

How on earth did I get here? How did this happen so fast?

Needless to say, I've been a bit weepy today... Okay, maybe A LOT weepy.

I was so excited to go and help out in Eve's preschool class today, since I've never been able to do it before without having to find a sitter for the younger one left behind.

This was the first time there wasn't a younger one. Convenient, right? And sad...

Young motherhood, of which I've been a part of for the past ten years, has been so incredibly exhausting, physically, mentally, and emotionally. And, in spite of the prophesies I received from nearly every elderly person that walked by, I sort of felt like it was never ending. And, yet, here I am. All four in school without a baby to nurse and cuddle, and contemplating taking the child safety latches off all the cabinets.

I have always had a hard time with change, so this comes as no surprise to me. I bawled like a baby at my last Ensemble concert in middle school, or at my high school graduation, or when I left for BYU... I cry when I think about packing up and moving into the house we are building a mile away-- after all, three of the four babies were newborns here.

Memories mean so much to me. Geez, I hope I don't get Alzheimers.

And my memories (the good ones, anyway) of my children as babies and toddlers and preschoolers, I don't want to leave behind. I really don't think I'm ready for all that to be gone.

Before putting Eve down for her nap thirty minutes ago, I made her promise that she would never grow up and I would stay a mom like I am forever. She threw her head back and laughed with that look of mischief. "Mama..."

On Friday Kevin and I went to the temple, deciding to do sealings of couples and families. The sealer, an 80-something-year-old Brother Allen, would give us a break now and then, since Kevin and I were the only couple (and kneeling across the altar for too long can get tiring). During those breaks he would chat and counsel and teach. He testified of how important families are, and told us, with tears welling up in his eyes, of how he would "Do it all again. In a heartbeat." And I thought how grateful I was that I was living it right now.

The Lord has truly blessed me, although I'm undeserving. My family means absolutely everything to me. They have truly taught me what it means to love deeply and unconditionally. They have given me the slightest, albeit poignant and powerful, glimpse into the love Heavenly Father has for me. And them. And the lady in front of me in the check-out line at the grocery store. And the guy at the intersection panhandling.

My heart is bursting with gratitude for that love. And for the way it has completely changed me.

I guess it's comforting to know that although my phase of life is changing, that love will not. I can keep it with me, along with my precious memories.

I think about those sealings we did... Couples that had passed on a century or more ago were given the chance to seal their marriage beyond mortality into the eternities. Children long ago deceased were sealed to their parents for time and all eternity. Families forever. What a privilege to give others the same blessings given to me the day over fourteen years ago when Kevin and I knelt across the altar.

Although times and seasons change, our family is an eternal unit. Eternal.

I can be okay with life changing. Of course, it's normal to mourn. It's normal to resist change, especially when there has been so much goodness that has come from what has been. But the change will bring goodness, too. Maybe not the same kind. But still. It will be good.

As it is, all of my kids can communicate with me at a relatively intelligent level. None needs a diaper, which means I don't have to carry a diaper bag around with me wherever I go. I can wear whatever I want without having to worry how it will work with a nursing baby.  I can get grocery shopping done in half the time because I don't have to break up any fights or banish anyone to walk behind me because they are messing around (a-hem, Allie and Sami...). The kids can walk home from school by themselves. I can feed all of them nuts and popcorn.

See, it's all good.

And Drew and Eve are still little enough for cuddle time. So I will soak it in while I can.