My pregnancy with Macks was completely unexpected. My husband and I always talked about having another baby, but both agreed that we would wait a little bit before we started trying. It was right around this time last summer when we got the news that we would be welcoming another child into our family.
Knowing that this would most likely be my last baby, I cherished every single second of my pregnancy. Both the good and the bad. I stopped at his kicks just so I could really feel them, laughed as he hiccuped in my belly, and was anxious for every single doctor appointment so that I could see his face on the ultrasound.
I’ve spent nearly every minute with him since he was born four months ago. I didn’t know I would be as emotional as I am with Macks. I still have his newborn clothes hanging in his closet, although he’s outgrown them for months. He’s still sleeping in our bedroom because I can’t bear the thought of moving him into his own room just yet. He hasn’t slept through the night at all since he’s been born, and while some tell me I need to start the sleep training, I hold off because I love our late night and early morning nursing sessions. It’s some of the only moments that we get together with just the two of us.
With my girls, I didn’t think twice about milestones or every little moment. Of course I cherished them at the time, but once they passed, that was it. With Macks, I am holding onto everything until every last drop. It’s as if I am trying to slow the time down to make his time in each stage just a little bit longer.
I really thought that I would be okay with everything, knowing that he was my last baby. But what I’m coming to learn is that I’m really not okay with it.