I know, I have four kids and it is no big deal stopping at FOUR. I also know that I have my hands full (and wallet empty), so logically speaking, four is enough.
But, there is a certain pain within which I cannot adequately explain (or qualify), knowing that I will NEVER (ouch!) have another newborn again. This makes me want to hold my littlest a little tighter (lest time slip away unknowingly).
I may have 3 older kids, and have enjoyed growing up with them. I have scrapbooks, lotsa photos and this blog to flaunt and immortalise these memories. But, I have also missed many precious moments with the kids too. I used to work full time, which allowed me about 3 hours in between dinner and bedtime to be with the kids on weekdays. I don’t know why the kids have to meet some major milestones during office hours. I don’t know what it would be like to hear Shanice’s first word for the first time, but I do know that it sucks hearing it from another person.
This is my last baby, my last chance to experience motherhood all over, from the beginning again. It makes me a little nervous and a little sad having the knowledge that every moment with Emmanuel is a last of its kind – tomorrow he will be a little bigger, a week later, he will be 2 months old. And before I have carried him enough, he will be running around like his brother, then going to school like his sister. And, I will no longer have my little baby in my arms.
I often watch my littlest as he sleeps, as if I can record his growth in that moment in my mind. Sometimes, I would look at his elder siblings and wonder how quickly they have grown, and where have all the time gone…
In between breakfasts and good nights, up and down the hallway, in and out of the door; ever moving round and round the clock and often slipping through my fingers so carelessly – their little-ness, my youth, our time together.