TO MY LAST BORN

Dear Last Little,
You were my last.
You were the beginning of final firsts.  Never again was I to feel tiny kicks growing inside of me.  Never again would I feel such pain of childbirth.
I wound up nursing my last baby, perhaps a bit longer.
The day I first heard your cry as you left the confines of the cozy bed in my womb was an absolutely last incredible experience yet bitter sweet as I fought such weakness, exhaustion, crabbiness, and hunger.  I looked at that little, monkey faced, bundle as she looked back at me and handed her over to her auntie.
The mid-wife’s apprentice, who I had been so mean to walked in with a bouquet of pink roses.  I was instantly ashamed of myself.

  Sylvie really was a sweet petit french lady who spoke with a deep accent.
 I was one of those mothers of “advanced maternal age” and was beginning an adventure like no other with you.

  You were my smallest baby.  I was 30 when I had my first baby and now at 40, I was to be an “older” mom.
  The hardest part of having a “last baby” is that it would be that last time of again anticipating the arrival of another.
I had come to the end of a chapter in my life of precious moments in life that would never happen again.
Thinking about those moments brings about many nostalgic memories.  The sweetness of cuddling a new baby.  I’ll always look back with fondness on those sweet moments as well as not expecting such a difficult birth.
I went into labor the day my mid-wife went on vacation.

  The anxiety and stress mounted as I had to get used to a new but very capable mid-wife.
I will always hold those memories and there will always be a special place for my youngest.

  No matter your age, you will never lose the title of being “My Baby”.
It was hard to win a race with a well napped toddler but God kept my heart strong enough and provided the energy and strength.
You got the most cuddles and hugs.  You were the last one weaned.
The stress of a teen in my mid-to-late 50’s was a process to be reckoned with.  Yet, we survived.
As the ribbon of childhood

unwound, to quickly, I witnessed the longer view that spanned from watching a new born to helping that same new born set up a college apartment.  It was a struggle to let you go. 
You were the last one to experience adulthood and struggled with “adulting” the most.
I never tire of staring at all the photos.
You were the wonderful closing of one chapter after another of adventures.  Don’t forget your roots and foundation.
I am forever blessed the Lord permitted me the opportunity to be your mother.
Love
Mom