Last night I couldn't fall asleep. It's becoming about a 1 in 3 day pattern. At about 11:30 I heard Oliver fussing. He almost never wakes up at night, so I crept in to console him and see what might be causing his distress. I hefted his long, 18 month old body out of the crib and sat with him close to my heart. I cherished 5 solid minutes of rocking and cuddling him. A toddler boy is a busy boy and his times of sitting still are rare.
Although I am looking forward with anticipation to how our family will look when there are no more babies, and I am bravely facing a new identity, my heart still longs for another baby. (No matter how many I have, I don't think it would ever stop!) Thoughts of how quickly the days have passed in my children's first years brings me to tears, because I realize how little I took the time to cherish them. I pushed them to grow quickly and allowed time to pass quickly because I always knew there would be a "next" baby. Now I am mourning the end of an era.
