Life is just.so.short.
I remember the season well, when my doctor informed me that “changes” in my body meant that I would likely not bear any more children. It brought many emotions, fears and uncertainties. I learned many of you had gone through the same thing, so I thought I’d share this again in case one of you is in this boat now.
Here I was thinking I would go quietly into menopause. You know, wait like most women do for those “signs” that tell us we’re transitioning from one season to the next.
So much for going quietly. I’m being drop-kicked into it. It wasn’t really that we had planned on having more children, either. It was the idea that it had been decided for me—that’s what hurt. That… that was a little harder to take.
This new season is requiring fresh faith. And surrender. Trust that God knows the future.
I’ve had a few months to process this news now but here’s the fact. Like millions of other women, I’m entering a new season of motherhood.
I’m moving on.
Tonight, I felt my unborn grandson moving and turning and hiccuping inside his mother—my daughter.
I have been doing a bit of soul-searching as I find myself in this new season of life—this season of in-between.
In-between parenting a toddler and mentoring a young mother-to-be.
As I was doing laundry, a blanket caught my eye. It boasts a “Daisy Kingdom” pattern from 1990. I love this blanket. I stitched it together in my kitchen while I waited for my first baby to arrive. It has graced seven cribs now—and it’s time to grace a new crib. Time is moving on.
I went downstairs and gave the blanket to my daughter. It’s hers, really. But my heart aches just a little for how quickly those past twenty-two years went by. They told me it would go by fast. But I didn’t believe it.
The days can go by so slowly.
As I went about the house tonight, I thought of other things I wouldn’t need any more, things I had been holding on to “just in case.” A newborn carseat snuggie. A handful of hand-made burp cloths. A breast pump. Nursing covers. I gave them to my daughter.
A surrender of sorts.
I glanced up in my closet and saw bins of baby clothes, and noticed that little green coat that baby #7 outgrew too quickly. I asked her to wear it so long that the bin it should have been put away in was on the shelf months before I finally put the green coat next to it. It was time to move on.
“This is silly,” I thought to myself. Look at those bins, just taking up space in my closet.
And in my heart.
Up all night. The sound of little feet.
Math lessons. Tooth fairy.
Grasshoppers. Cricket catching.
Driving tests. Graduation.
New life. And it starts again.
They grow so quickly, don’t they?
It’s impossible to grasp the brevity of the life we live. I wonder, if we knew how fast the time goes, if we would stop longer, linger more.
Tonight, as I brushed the toddler’s teeth and put her dirt-stained little feet into the sink for a quick rinse, I had to smile to myself.
The world may see motherhood as little more than a “stop over” on the highway of life but I want to see so much more.
I want to soak up the seasons of my life in such a way that it pains me to see them pass.
Today, I felt that pain a little more acutely.
But something tells me that if it hurts, we’re doing it right.