If You're My Last Baby
If you're my last baby I'll never forget the day we brought you home and your big brother met you. How he marvelled over you, thought you were his baby and wanted to hold and cuddle you right away. How he took such careful care of you in your delicate newborn state and how he tried daily to breastfeed you.
If you're my last baby I will never forget those long nights spent in the recliner together. How you would sleep so peacefully on my chest, cuddled up under that oh so soft, teal blanket that we have. I will never forget how warm you liked to be while sleeping and how when you would start to stir I could just rub your back or lightly touch your hair and you would settle back to sleep on my chest.
If you're my last baby I will never forget how hard we worked to make breastfeeding happen. How we tried every position known to man, or should I say woman. How something that was supposed to be soothing and calming was often times stressful and difficult for you. How we would both sit together and cry, but pick ourselves up and try again. I will never forget that we figured it out, that nursing is a relationship, different with every mother, every baby and every child. I will never forget the pride that I felt every time someone said you were chubby, how it just made me feel like an absolute goddess for being able to give you those rolls with just my body. I will never forget the night you stopped nursing. How I cried leaving your bedroom and your Daddy hugged me, even though he probably thinks I'm silly. How it broke my heart to think that my days of growing fat little baby rolls from my own body were over.
If you're my last baby I will never forget how you would freeze with a giant, open-mouthed grin when I would tickle your cheek with my hair and how you would just lay there, waiting for me to tickle you again. How you would slowly close your eyes and let sleep happen when I would run my finger through what hair you had at the back of your head. How you instantly snuggle into the crook of my neck and suck your thumb when you touch one of your stuffed animals or a plushy blanket. How you suck your thumb and rub your cheeks with the long ears of your favourite stuffed animal, Sister Monica Joan.
If you're my last baby I will never forget how much you loved to be in the sling. How you would nap for hours, snugged up tight against my chest, while I chased your brother around the park, played trains with him or, on a lucky day, watched something very quietly on Netflix while slowly swaying with you in the sling.
If you're my last baby I'll never forget how complete our family felt with you at home. I'll never forget that you are enough.
lovefrommaria
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