the last time

I just now understand that in anticipating my son’s “firsts,” I’ve forgotten to appreciate what he’s left behind. The firsts are monumental, celebrated and captured on film. I reveled in Little Dude’s first steps, jotted down his first words and am prepared to save lost teeth. There isn’t a first I haven’t recorded in some way. I’ve paid less attention to his “lasts.” I’ve ignored the finality that comes with moving from one stage to another.

My boys are spaced far enough apart - 6, 3, and 6 months, that I have a greater appreciation for this, I think, or maybe just a greater understanding of how quickly they go from one phase to the next. Each of my own little dudes is different, though, and while Bean always wandered into our room early in the mornings to be pulled in under the blankets and snuggled, Bruiser stays in his bed until one of us comes to scoop him up, more often than not. I don’t know which kind Big Red will be, but I know that I cherish every moment I get patted on the face or told how pretty I am or find them clambering over each other to see who can snuggle closer on the couch.

Big Red is our last, our baby. That was always the plan, though had we been in an economic position to leave it up to chance or God or whatever you believe, I think after we found out I was a carrier for CF he would have been anyway. He is growing so incredibly fast it takes my breath away. And what hit me hardest, at three months and again at six, was packing up the clothes that were too small, folding them carefully and tucking them into bags to be donated. Just clothes, but some of them Bean wore, some of them were Bruiser’s, a few belonged to both and the realization that I wasn’t storing them away for a future brother was far more painful than I could have anticipated. I cried, and I’m not a crier. I grieved for what will never be again.

It goes so fast. We all say it, and yes, it’s cliche, but that makes it no less true. We hold on to what we can, for as long as we can, gripping those memories to us white-knuckled tight.