For the Last Time

“Time is too slow for those who wait, too
swift for those who fear, too long for those who grieve, too short for those who
rejoice, but for those who love, time is eternity.” Henry Van Dyke

When I began this entry my family was celebrating my baby boy‘s first birthday. Leading up to his big day I was surprised at my strength, and that I hadn’t yet shed a tear. I had Mason’s birthday in October; Justine’s birthday in November. Between those two celebrations my Grandpa died. I made Thanksgiving for 14 people. Then I was preparing for the holidays. And of course, I was getting ready for Peyton’s first birthday. Perhaps in the midst of chaos I didn’t have the chance to dwell, and maybe for that reason I was avoiding the inevitable bittersweet feelings.
On the eve of his birthday, I sat in our living room and began to write in Peyton’s journal. I started individual journals for each of my two sons in hopes of preserving my memories as a mom for them when they’re older; however, I don’t know that I’ll honestly be able to part with them. Regardless, as I opened the book, I leafed through its brief history. Before I started a new entry, I read through the book sitting next to me I got him for his birthday.
Let Me Hold You Longer.

If you’ve never read it, grab some tissues before indulging and don’t expect to be able to muster the strength to read it aloud to your children without your throat constricting around the enormous knot that is bound to form. The author included a forward prior to the story that detailed how she realized how little we celebrate the last things our kids do but almost always remember the first. What if I knew it would be the last time my son played in the sandbox. Would I let him run his tractor until the sun set through the tunnels of sand? Would I ever put him down if I knew it was the last time my son would run into my arms wanting to be held? Yes and yes. The book is entirely about that.

From birth to empty nest, and it’s beautifully illustrated book. What got me was the things that have already passed for my kids. The “last” things that already happened. While I realized there are many pages that haven’t been covered with them, it will approach all too quickly. After all, our “lasts” with Justine take us nearly to the end of the story which caused the knot in my throat to become larger.

And so I finished reading that book, put it aside to be wrapped, and picked up my pen to etch another piece of history for Peyton in his journal through my blurred eyes, and tear stained paper.

Peyton’s birthday was wonderful. It was a beautiful day, and we spent wonderful time together. His first Elmo doll. How much better does it get? Not much, my older son would admit. The following day, my older son, Mason, was playing in front of me while I fed Peyton his bottle. As he nearly finished the milk in his bottle I noticed Peyton’s eyes becoming increasingly heavy to hold open. Peyton and Mason were both “babywise” babies, which means they learned early to go to sleep on their own with a fairly strict schedule at my very-type A discretion. They don’t fall asleep in our arms, or in the car, or in a rocking chair. It’s their cribs on their own time that they rest to sleep. This is a huge blessing to have a babe learn how to fall asleep on their own but in two years I’ve learned to deprives a mom of holding her still, soundly sleeping baby in her arms-- a gift unlike any other.

Peyton finished his bottle, and began whimpering for more. I put the bottle down on the floor, and he turned toward me with his eyes shut and put his thumb in his mouth and nestled against me. He slept on me. My little baby. As I sat in awe for a bit, it dawned on me that perhaps this too was the last time my baby would do just that.

Tears began to stream my face, and yet at the same time I continued to recite over an over again how fortunate I felt to remember the last time it happened.