The Ache of the Last Baby's Firsts and Other Things

Yesterday marked 10 weeks since my sweet Miss A joined us earthside. 10 weeks of wonder at being the mama of baby girl. 10 weeks filled with bittersweet moments. 10 weeks filled with firsts. 10 weeks filled with lasts. Her first smiles were my last first smiles. Her first laughs were my last first laughs. Her first coos were my last first coos.

It's a funny thing, this last experience of having a new baby. Even though my soul knows my family is complete, I feel an ache in the deepest depths of my being knowing that these are my last firsts. I find myself longing to experience those first slippery moments of newborn squish again or to feel those sweet kicks in my belly that only I felt. And yet, I do not actually want to be pregnant again. In no uncertain terms, my body says no. But then there are those moments where I feel The Ache.

I've read about The Ache before (if you haven't, click here and do it--I'll wait). I've heard my friends who are past the baby stage talk about it. I've anticipated and feared the moment when The Ache crept into my life. I didn't expect to feel it so soon. I expected it to creep into my life when Miss A hit the toddler phase, not hit me over the head when she was still so new. It has taken me by surprise. The Ache has taken a 2 x 4 and smashed me right over the head, nearly eliminating all reason that remains in my brain.

"It wouldn't be so bad to have a 5th."

"Miss A needs a sister to grow up with."

"I'm sure my body could handle carrying another 11 lb baby."

"Nah, there's no chance that twins would show up this time."

Seriously. It's crazy what The Ache does. Before Miss A was born, I knew without a shadow of a doubt that I was done. That this sweet baby growing in my belly was my very last baby. I knew that those last weeks of her pregnancy were MY last weeks of pregnancy. But then, her birth went so smoothly and those sweet smiles began to grace her sweet little face and that addictive sweet newborn smell tickled my nose and suddenly I'm wishing that I could experience it all again. But I can't and I won't. And The Ache knows that.

So instead, I'll cherish all these last firsts. I'll relish in her gummy baby smiles and snuggle her a little bit longer. I'll smell her head and take in that intoxicating baby smell until her big kid smell takes over, wishing I could bottle it and store it away for when I am older. I'll memorize the way she sounds when she sleeps and I'll treasure those sleepy, peaceful sighs. I'll cherish her smallness and how milk is always the solution. And when I blink one day and she's suddenly not a baby anymore, I'll embrace The Ache and mourn as I say goodbye to all of my last baby firsts and welcome all of the wonderful toddler and big kid firsts that await us. And then I will turn into that weird lady who sniffs newborns with a wistful look on her face dreaming of the day that I will snuggle my babies' babies. And I will do it without any shame at all because I will know how truly fleeting this newness is.