By Jamie Duhn 
It’s easy to think of multiple sayings and mottos about how invaluable earthly possessions are.
“It’s not what you have, but who you share it with”
“Worry less about things and more about experiences”
“Who cares what you have, you can’t take it with you when you go”
And trust me, I know these to be true. I am not a hoarder of hotel pens or mini shampoo bottles or every receipt and coaster from my favorite restaurants. I don’t care much for name-brand shoes or designer purses, yet there are a few things I just can’t easily let go of.
I had my last baby six months ago. He’s my third in less than five years. It wasn’t hard to dig out the newborn things again. The swing and lounger were still tucked in the back of a guest bedroom and had hardly collected dust. The newborn onesies and tiny socks were in a tote just behind the most recent size of summer clothes. I excitedly pulled everything back into the living room as we awaited the third baby who would use them. But I stared at each item I picked up for just a second longer than I had before as I unpacked them into the nursery yet again. I think I knew then these items held immense significance I hadn’t realized two or four years earlier with my other babies. I may have even made a few comments to my husband like, “Can you believe our 4-year-old was ever this small?” Or, “Gosh, do you remember our 2-year-old wearing this?” But I quickly moved on in the frenzy of nesting.
Now it’s different. I’m not unpacking baby items with anticipation of who this final baby will be anymore. Now I’m packing them away, but not to go back into our storage room. Each item, no matter how small (literally and figuratively), has some memory tied to it.
The swaddle that held all of my babies, just days old, as I nursed them in the glow of my binge watch of the moment for the twelfth time at night.
The overpriced newborn sleeper I bought at a baby boutique before I knew they’d outgrow it after one wear.
The uber-soft blanket I tucked around them in the car seat on the way home from the hospital.
The tiny hats and bows that look like they could have been made for a doll, but once fit perfectly on my babies’ heads.
The special pillow I used to support them while we navigated latch issues.
The bassinet I cursed at when I stubbed my toe at 2 a.m., and then missed once we removed it as the baby transitioned to the crib.
The bouncer that gave me a minute to help the toddler get a snack before the baby realized he’d been set down.
Boxes and bags filled with clothes all connected to a memory in my mind. What they wore when they first rolled, smiled up at me, met their grandparents, went to the beach for the first time, or simply slept on my chest while I read.
When we had our baby shower five years ago, I was shocked at how many “things” a baby would need. When I rearranged our house to store it all between babies, I swore I’d be excited when I could finally get rid of all of the “stuff.” Yet here I am, smiling through tears as I say goodbye to these precious items and the moments they represent.
I have one tote labeled “special baby items” that will remain here simply because the memories attached are too strong to part with. Maybe I’ll peek into it now and then, or maybe it’ll get pushed into a corner and forgotten about until I accidentally stumble upon it while cleaning. Maybe I’ll show the items to my kids as they grow, or maybe someday they’ll take them to their own homes. But most of these “things” aren’t meant for us anymore. We need to let them go so we can add new “things” that will someday produce their own memories. Some of these baby things will go to family and friends, while some will sit on a shelf in a second-hand store waiting to be picked. These things will go on to create new memories for another mom while they remain immortalized in my memory and camera roll.
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