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To my last baby . . .

I knew you were my last. I saw the positive pregnancy test and felt such joy you were going to be ours. Yet, I also felt sad because I’d never get to do it all again. You were our final attempt at getting pregnant. You were my last pregnancy. You were my last birth. You were my last baby.

I knew to cherish everything because there would be no more after you.

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I waited anxiously to see your heartbeat. I marveled at the complete miracle of it all. And then I looked forward to the ultrasound where we’d find out your gender. Your daddy and I held hands and savored that exquisite moment when we found we would be having another boy. 

I pictured your tiny fingers and your tiny toes. I bought a blue blanket that was oh-so-soft, and I imagined wrapping you in it at the hospital. I pictured rocking you all night long and holding you in my arms while you slept. 

And soon you were born. And the first thing I said was, “I love him so much!” with tears in my eyes. Because you were more beautiful than I could have ever imagined.

I didn’t let you go. I didn’t let them take you from me at the hospital. The hours passed quickly. I smelled your sweet head. I kissed your soft skin. I knew each day with you was going to fly by and soon you’d be grown, just like the others.

I knew I’d be tired, but I didn’t care. I’d get my chance to sleep later. So then I just held you.

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I savored it in a way I didn’t get to with your siblings. I held you more while I closed my eyes. I didn’t get anything done . . . I just enjoyed you and our time together. Because before I knew it, you were crawling, and then walking. And your infancy was over.

Now you’re a toddler, with your own things to do and say. And I’m going to enjoy that, too. There will be no more babies in this household. You’ll catch up to your siblings soon. What I saw twice over was that once kids reach a certain stage of independence, they just don’t need you anymore the same way.

So baby, while you’re still small, I’m going to hold you tight. Because you’re my last and I can’t help but cherish the wonder of it all. Time has a way of speeding up with each passing day. I wish I could slow it down, but because I can’t, I slow myself down instead. I hold you longer, I kiss you more. I don’t worry about what I’m missing because what I have now is much more important.

P.S. If this tugged your heartstrings like it tugged ours, check out Love You Forever—it’s one of our favorite bedtime stories.

Recommendations in this post contain affiliate links. Her View From Home may receive a small commission if you choose to purchase.

Caroline Murray

Caroline is a freelance writer, mama to two young children and one sweet baby.  She loves everything country and tries not to take anything too seriously.  You can see more of her at www.the-othermom.com.

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