not for lack of sentiment

i remember when huck's feet started to reach the surface of the bed when he nursed. he was just weeks old, maybe 4, and I struggled to find a position that would make him more comfortable. i didn't want his legs to get tired. i didn't want him to feel responsible for holding himself in place. it sounds completely absurd now, he had hardly the physical strength then to lift his legs up off his changing table, let alone the muscle and coordination to brace himself through a 20 minute feeding. today when i nursed him his feet rested flat on the bed beside me. his knees bent just above the very spot his feet used to dangle from my lap. what used to seem like such a mystery - how will we keep nursing as he continues to grow taller and bigger in my lap? - just vanished one day as if it never even existed at all. these sorts of things tend to answer themselves in time, often before we even have a chance to look up.

i was thinking about this the other day as i was feeding huck and reading this article (which is sure to make any mama cry). god-willing, henry is not our last baby, but the message in the article resonated with me as we prepare to pack away yet another size of h's clothes and turned the calendar today so that one more month is tacked on to henry's age. it's such a conundrum, this mommy thing. i look so forward to, and celebrate, every new step in h's development. next he's going to start forming vowel sounds! check. next he'll grab at everything within reach and try to put it in his mouth! check. next he'll start to roll over! imagine how fun it'll be when he crawls! walks! talks in sentences! runs!... the list is endless, and each new stage is so magical to us as new, totally clueless parents. but it's also so painful to put away remnants of his last big accomplishment. when i boxed up his 'home from the hospital' outfit i fought back tears for hours. a few weeks ago we moved the straps higher in his car seat. he rides front-facing in his stroller now, no longer supported by his infant seat. these things physically pain me, but also make me swell with pride. where does it end? i have this vision of myself with tears streaming down my face as henry eats his first slice of pizza. not a moment anyone would say is traditionally honored, but it very likely will be (if even a little bit) for me. i cried the other day because he smiled at his own reflection in the mirror. i knew being a parent would make life a little insane. no one ever told me about this endlessly sentimental and neurotic behavior i can't seem to break from. now I know. i've never felt so much pain and happiness in all my life. i guess that's one thing i'll never have to pack away with henry's swaddle blankets and pacifiers. i think that might be (at least for now) okay.