Wednesday, February 27, 2013

Once She Was Our Only

Stephen was cleaning out the basement today and found this old picture.  I'm not really sure why it struck me so much, because my screensaver is a slideshow of all the pictures I have of the girls, starting when Gracie was a newborn, so I look at her baby pictures every day.  Maybe because this picture isn't so posed or perfect?  It's off-center and she's not smiling, but then, she was such a serious baby, it really captures her in a way that the more perfect pictures don't.  And that, combined with some serious postpartum hormones, sort smacked me a little on the nose.  Because I remember those days- we were the first people ever to have a baby.  We would have that baby forever and ever.  We would be living those first months for the rest of our lives.  Just like you think you'll always be in college, you'll always be young, we would just always be there.  A combination of taking it for granted and worrying that things would never change.

And then one became two and two became three and then I found myself cuddling the last newborn I would ever have, wondering where the hell all the time went, with Fiddler on the Roof perpetually stuck in my head.  How did this happen?  Who ALLOWED this to happen?  When did we stop being that brand-new family?

I'm trying to focus on the positive and not be so hung up on the mostly-hormonal nonsense I have running through my head about not making any more babies ever.  The things I never have to worry about again- miscarriage, late fetal loss, genetic/congenital problems, micropreemies, ohhh, all kinds of things.  It's not really working, in case you're wondering.  But I'm trying.  I totally don't want to be a drama queen and obsess over stupid crap.

And anyway.  Things haven't actually changed that much.