The Last One

Just this week, my Annemarie turned 11 months.  You don't have to be a genius to figure out how much that girl means to me; not because she's my only daughter, not because she's the baby, but because I think she's going to be the last one.

Typing that made me want to vomit.

I know a lot of mothers lament over their children's birthdays, mourning the loss of their younger years, but that's never been me.  That's not to say there is anything wrong with it, I just never understood it because I never felt that way.  Until now.

It really just hit me last night.  It's been sneaking up for weeks, I could feel it, but it wasn't until last night that the tears began to fall.  In buckets. 

Usually, by this time, Adam and I are either pregnant again or in agreement about plans for the next baby.  We've always been on the same page with kids.  This time, I'm reluctantly agreeing with his most logical approach to our now-complete family because 1.) he's very smart and 2.) we can only do so much. And with his constant traveling and my single-parenting, it makes sense to throw in the proverbial baby towel.  Choked on my vomit again. I feel like I'm giving up, and that makes me feel ill. 

Having babies is what I'm good at.  Raising babies is what I do.  It's really the only "me" I know anymore. We have good babies, too (total luck, but I used this in my defense as to why we should keep this door open.) With Annie's birthday around the corner, I won't have a baby anymore.  I don't even know what to do with that.  My entire identity is wrapped up in these kids.  I have 100% surrendered to my mom role. I own more flats than heels. Maybe none of this is healthy, but it's the life that I love and I don't want to let it go.  I don't. Adam tells me to focus on raising the older kids.  

I can't. Not yet. 

I can't yet get over the fact that I won't feel infant arms around my neck or have a baby perched on my hip for long.  I can't even begin to know how to wean the baby I have.  I can't fathom not changing diapers, not buying finger food, not blowing raspberries on tiny baby feet. 

I'm struggling, and not in a small way.  This hurts something fierce.  My heart feels like it is breaking.

And then I read this, how someone described weaning her last baby. The last one. 

My last nursing session with Noah was in the dreamy hours of a crisp September night, and I knew…

I sat down with him in the rocker, the sound machine offering its rainy tune, the night-light casting little golden flecks across his sleepy face. With his squishy cheek pressed into my breast, his starfish hand clasped around my index finger, and the gentle metronome of his breathing – in and out like waves on my heart, I allowed myself to become fully aware of it all – his very body being nourished by my own.

I turned our intimate space into an altar of worship – saying feel this, let your spirit acknowledge this holy place. I wrote my feelings down with love along the walls of my heart saying to my mind, “remember this moment, forever.”

Noah fell into a deep sleep, as he had so many times before, nestled securely in my arms, latched onto my breast, filled with contentment and quieted with sleep. Ever so slowly his mouth opened, slack-jawed and loose, lost in his slumber, my son took a deep breath stretched out his arms and … unlatched.

I leaned down and pressed my lips against his doughy cheek and I knew. I knew. I knew.

It was the end.

Oh, no. I'm going to need some help to get through this. 

7 Songs: A List

7 Songs I Love So Much That I Lose All Concentration When I Hear Them

1.) I'm On Fire - Bruce Springsteen

2.) Crazy Mary - Eddie Vedder

3.) 99 Luftballoons - Nena

4.) The Show Goes On - Lupe Fiasco

5.) Boots of Spanish Leather - Bob Dylan

6.) Drop The World - Lil Wayne ft. Eminen

7.) Fast Car - Tracy Chapman

7 Things

Seven Things With Which I am Currently In Love

1.) Hot Sauce. All things hot sauce. Lately, I find I'm simply making food to use as a vessel to get the Sriracha in my mouth.

2.) My bed. Fine, our bed. The mattress is the best thing I have laid my body on. Sometimes, I go upstairs just to sprawl for three minutes or so. And, every night Adam is home and crawls into bed, I hear him whisper, "I love this bed." Me, too. (Clearly, Leo and Hatch agree. They crawl in sometime between 3-5am most mornings.)

3.) Dillon Park: Splash pad, playground, creek-stomping, repeat. The kids could play there for hours and I can keep my eyes on all four of them with very few interruptions. Bonus: the bathrooms are close to the action and super-clean.

4.) Lana del Rey. National Anthem and Video Games are currently playing on repeat. Even the kids know them well enough to sing along.

5.) Fresh flowers. I'm sure Adam is annoyed that I keep buying them, but I feel so excited to come home to fresh flowers on the table. I just love them.

6.) Moonshine. I can't say that I have tried too many varieties (and these are store-bought and not "authentic," so don't judge me too harshly), but even the unflavored tastes pretty good and is less inebriating than, say, vodka. I made a moonshine mojito last week that knocked my own socks off. Adam prefers the apple pie flavored on the rocks for sipping. It tastes like a booze-infused dessert...which it basically is.

7.) The library. Do you know what a great resource the library is? Probably, yes, but I had forgotten. It's such a wonderful place! I adore books, even if I'm honest with myself and admit that I'll never have time to read most of them. Currently checked out from our neighborhood shelves: Small-Plot, High-Yield Gardening and The Right Address (The Dirt on New York's Glittering Park Ave.).

6 More Things

Six Things At Which I Am Quite Good

This is hard. Writing this, I mean. I want to make light of it, throw in something negative, downplay the good. Because that's what we do, right? We have a hard time admitting the things we're good at, most of us, anyway. But here are a few, in complete, organic, honest-to-goodness truth.

1.) I'm a good mom. I'm good at mothering. Perfect, no. Of course not. But my kids are happy and curious and innocent and all the things they should be, even on our worst of days.

2.) Making things. Projects are my thing. I have a way of clustering myself when I can't get one done before thinking of another, but there is so much gratification when something turns out just the way I wanted, even more when it turns out better.

3.) Expressing myself with written words. I'm less eloquent verbally, I fear, but words come easily to me. Hence, my blog.

4.) To-do lists. I'm good at making them and at knocking them out. I'm nothing if not productive. I work.

5.) Small talk. I don't like it, but I'm good at it. (My mom: she taught me how to be polite.)

6.) Hosting. I can be a good hostess. I have lots of (paid) experience and I really enjoy parties. Too much, sometimes. ;)

6 Things

(As I have been taken with lists lately, I'm compiling a few short one to share on here over the next several days.)

6 Things at Which I Am Very Bad

1.) Matching socks. I hate it. Gave up several years ago. 

2.) Shaving my knees. They are either riddled with 1/4 inch long hairs or bloody. There is no in-between.

3.) Saying no to fruity candy. I just can't do it. I am salivating just typing about it.

4.) Sports. All of them.

5.) Cleaning the microwave. My mom does it for me sometimes. I'm 34.

6.) Letting it go. (Try not to start singing here.) By "it," I mean anything. I can beat a dead horse. I'll add that to the "Things at Which I'm Very Good" list. Adam can vouch for me here.