The Last Time

When Curtis and I were preparing to get married, we discussed having children – though since we were practically kids ourselves at 22 and 25 years old, we knew it would be some time before we grew our family. Curtis is an only child, and I am the oldest of two girls. Overall, our families are on the smaller side and for the most part, we were both happy with our situations. Before we started trying to get pregnant, we had a serious conversation about why we we even wanted to become parents. Would we ever consider not having children? Shockingly to many I am sure, we concluded life just the two of us could be nice. More travel, our professional pathway unaffected by the pause of pregnancy and young children, unlimited date nights, fuller bank accounts – and we could see how there are many who are happy in this reality. After all, Curtis is my best friend and our life felt very full with just one another. But, at the end of the day we knew we wanted children. God spoke to our hearts and we both felt a magical peace and confidence that we were meant to have babies and so we began that journey to parenthood and were so blessed to become Mom and Dad to Margaret. 

My pregnancy with her was intense. Like my mother, I experienced Hyperemesis Gravidarum – vomiting pretty much every day until delivery even with a variety of medications. The more intense periods of vomiting meant hospital visits for fluids and stabilization. It was controlled by a lot of medication and support. Well-meaning friends and family said “maybe next time will be different” or “maybe you’ll have a boy next and it’ll be easier” – but my OB-GYN gently, but firmly, explained that any subsequent pregnancies were very likely to be similar or worse. On top of the HG, I developed gestational hypertension at the end of my third trimester and was admitted to the hospital, put on bed rest, and quickly induced. This was yet another complication I was told could rear its ugly head should I find myself pregnant again. So with baby Margaret safe in our arms we both decided we’d wait awhile to determine if she’d ever be a big sister. After two and a half years we felt the same peace and clarity that we were ready to try for another baby, and with the help of my healthcare practitioners, friends, and family, we felt as ready as we could be to face another pregnancy.  After an even more intense pregnancy, as we had been warned, Catherine joined us and our sweet, little family feels so full. 

Early on in motherhood I realized that just as there would be many firsts there would also be many lasts. There are beautiful poems, songs, and even memes about this exact sentiment and everytime I see one my eyes well with tears and I swear my throat starts to close. At least with Margaret I felt sure I’d get to do it again with her sibling. But now, with my last baby, I know a chapter of my life is closing. Even as I write this I realize that I’ve experienced quite a few lasts and didn’t even know it. There was a last time I felt my baby move in my belly. There was a last 2 a.m. nursing session (and 3, 4, 5 a.m.). There was a last time I spoon fed her – now little sister prefers to feed herself. But rather then plan for them and obsess over these “last moments” I’ve decided I’d rather not know when they’re coming. And maybe you’re different and you’d rather know and celebrate as many “lasts” as possible – we’re each entitled to experience this tender season in a manner that is best for us. But for me I’d rather not know when they’re upon us. I think we can all sense them though, and when I feel one getting close, and I feel my heart in my throat and hot tears in my eyes wondering, “Is this it?” I stop – breathe- and work hard to be present. I take a mental picture by grounding myself in the five senses of that moment – I smell her hair, feel her soft cheeks, listen to her gentle cooing – whatever moment is upon me I just pause and thank God for THIS moment. My prayer is forever to be present and be content – two things that for me take effort and His grace. 

I write this for a reason – the last time I nurse my last baby is here. And this “last” is a little harder to process because as much as I wish I didn’t know it was coming – that it mercifully and magically would happen on its own – it is something I have to plan for. In case anyone else is in my shoes or is curious, a few things have made this experience easier. First, I’ve been weaning super, super slowly – limiting feedings over the past 4 months to the point where now I nurse at night and in the morning. This was the balance that worked for us.  Second, I know from my weaning experience with Margaret that it’ll be easier for both Catherine and myself if I go away for the night. So Curtis and I decided to do a quick getaway close by to celebrate many things, including closing this chapter and celebrating this motherhood milestone. Third, Curtis is supportive in every way possible and a supportive partner has been the key to success for me throughout both of my breastfeeding experiences. 

But even with all of these wonderful things in place, every time I talk about or think about this last time (including as I write these words out) my eyes are filled with tears so much so that I can barely see what I’m typing. So for the last few nursing sessions, with my last baby, I’m reminding myself to experience the sweetness of the present. Of God’s gift and love in the individual moments that will be strung together in our memories and tell the story of our lives. As Catherine grows out of more and more of her sister’s clothes and Margaret insists that she can “do it herself”, I know there are more lasts that will wash over me in ways I can’t imagine. But there are even more firsts that fill my heart to the brim. And I pray that should I, or you, find yourself overwhelmed and wondering if “the last time” is right around the corner, that your heart finds contentment and peace in the present moment so that you may forever have that memory tucked away in your heart.