We crossed the Rubicon last week.
The little guy, ever in his own time, finally shuffled his barely ambulatory limbs without external support. We crossed a threshold. It’s over.
Our babies are gone.
When we decided to make Levi the last child in the MennoDaddy household, I knew his ascent to toddlerhood would come eventually. (Truthfully, we thought it would come about seven months ago, but whatever.) But now that he’s gone from crawling over to terrorize the cat to toddling over to terrorize the cat, I’m saddened beyond belief.
You lose sight of the magic of a baby when you’re cleaning up poopy toddler butts and planning pre-school schedules. Just like you lose sight of the magic of a baby at times while you have one – it’s so easy to get lost in the hazy brain fuzz of a 3 a.m. feeding or a teething jag when you’re going on little to no sleep. Which is why, with Levi, I tried to focus myself, to get myself to live in the moment. I’d find myself rocking a screaming baby, trying to soothe him and getting so frustrated. And I’d actively refocus my consciousness. Remember this, I’d think. These are cherished memories. These are sacred. Don’t ever forget this.
Just this afternoon one of my cow orkers (“cow orkers” has a much better ring to it than co-workers, don’t you think?) came in with her 8-week old daughter. She’s this tiny thing, all wide eyes and squalling pink littleness. I could fit her on my forearm. And I remembered a time when I did exactly that with both of my children.
We’re done having children. I’ll likely never have another baby this close to my life again, until Norah and Levi have their own children. As hard as it was (and it was SO hard), I will miss my babies. I’ll miss the Baby Stuff™. The little clothes. The itty-bitty inoffensive diapers. And I’m so grateful, forever grateful, to them for sharing that part of their life with me. For teaching how to be a father.
My babies are gone. Here’s to whatever comes next.
Videography by Gampy. Thx for the video.
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