The night before I went into labor, obviously sensing some impending excitement, I busied myself with last minute, nesting preparations. As I tried to perform my bedtime routine, knowing full well that insomnia would make sleep elusive, I worked mechanically through the routine of washing my face and brushing my teeth. I laboriously changes into my large pajamas, and I stole a glimpse of myself in the mirror.
As I stared at my reflection I was confronted with the enormity of the situation. Like, seriously, my belly was enormous. The taunt skin stretched across my abdomen in a painful way, causing the flesh there to shine. A series of weblike veins crawled across my swollen belly similar to a bluish, purple claw, and a brown line slashed the section of my stomach in two.
A protrusion of skin stuck out in the lower part of my belly, an almost laughable reminder of what my navel used to be, and I could see the frightening changes above that let me know my milk was preparing to come in to nourish my growing infant. Yet as I looked at the apparent horror show of my body taken over by pregnancy I smiled. I gazed adoringly at the impossibly large mass of child inside me; then I touched each side of my large abdomen gingerly and with a feeling akin to reverence.
This would be the last time, I thought.
And with this realization at the forefront on my brain I tried to savor the image of myself great with child for I knew I wouldn’t see it again.
When I first became pregnant this time around I don’t think we were sure, but as time has progressed and reality has whispered to us, my husband and I are certain this will be our last child. There’s an almost melancholy sadness to the realization that you’re having your last baby. It’s a feeling of finality and a knowledge that each moment you now experience will be the last of its kind.
When I touched my 38 week, pregnant stomach that last night, I knew. This would be the last time. The last time I carried life inside me.
When I lay in the delivery room, my feet in the stirrups, and I pushed, I knew. This would be the last time. The last time I brought a life into this world.
When I heard her first shrill cry, tears came to my eyes, much like with my first child, but I also realized, this would be the last time. The last time to hear that first cry that ushers a baby into life on the outside of the womb.
When I held her naked body against my chest, when I kissed her tiny head, and when I looked into her puffy, slate gray eyes, I knew. This would be the last time. Every day with this baby would be the last of its kind, and I grappled for that revelation eagerly. I took it for what it was worth, and I held it tight.
And now, as I lay beside her. Now, as I gaze at her sleeping face. Now, as I listen to her breathe, I know it’s the last time. Each precious moment is the last time of its kind, and I will not take it for granted.
It is almost sad to realize she is my last, but I’m also grateful for the opportunity it represents. This time I know to hold her a little longer, to push off the chores a bit more. I know, now, to savor each passing moment, to praise God for every second, and to enjoy to the fullest extent each and every segment of it all.
For it will be the last.
Whitney says
I loved this!!! I just had my 3rd girl and it’s so bittersweet. Those same thoughts go through my head daily. The flood of emotions are overwhelming, but like you I’m not taking any moment for granted. She is our last child as well and I’m so fortunate to get to be a new mommy one more time.
Denise says
Congratulations Brie and family!! She’s so beautiful. Funny, I have had a similar sentiment…. My last was 15 (!!) years ago, and it has saddened me for a long time that we would have no more. But what a blessing our four are!!
brieann.rn@gmail.com says
Thanks Denise!