last day as a baby

At this time last year, I was doing all the admission paperwork for having Gil. I had no way of knowing what a wild ride the next 36 hours would be.

I've loved the experience of having this second baby. I think I've appreciated it more because I knew this time how quickly it would pass, how the baby stage would move away from me so incredibly quickly. Rather than something that I was trying to conquer, the baby stage was soething I savored this time around.

Both of my babies were easy sweet babies and they were both good sleepers. I think that made all the difference for me. But they were easy in very different ways. Vake was cheerful all the time but very high energy- he was always a baby on the move and not a cuddler, particularly. Gil, on the other hand, has his people and he delights in them. And his Mama? I am Chief of Staff. Which is totally different from Vake's approach but totally wonderful.

I nursed both boys until they were a year old. This morning, as I got Gil out of the crib and sat down to nurse him for the last time, I felt such a cliched combination of satisfaction, grief and accomplishment for a job well done mixed in with a measure of being glad to be able to turn the page and not be constantly thinking about the next feeding. He nursed really well this morning- which has been increasingly unusual for him- almost as if he knew, which of course he didn't and doesn't- that this morning was the last time.

From the second they are born, you are preparing yourself to give them up, to give them away. What a difficult thing, right? Each growth for them is, in some way, necessarily a loss for the parent- for the mother, particularly. And it is all moving so fast.

Looking back over these thoughts, I've basically given voice to every cliche in the book- and you know what? Maybe they are cliches because they are true.

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