My time left is limited. I know this because every time I lay her in her too-small bassinet, I have a visual reminder for how big she is getting. I hear her sleeping peacefully near my desk as I plug away at my work, with her sweet breathing and a slight whistley nose. I’m convinced I have kissed those cheeks at least a million times now, as I did with my other girls. But they are big kids now, and I’m lucky if I can get a few kisses in a day. So I know my time with her is limited.
In just a few days (or weeks if I can push it that long) she won’t fit in her bassinet anymore. She’ll nap upstairs in her crib, too far away. I’ll ask her big sister, Audyn to play barbies upstairs in her room, so that I can work on my laptop in the rocking chair in the nursery and get my sweet baby sleeping fix then. There is something so bittersweet about knowing they are your last baby. While we are still pursuing plans to do foster-to-adopt, I have no idea how old the child God will entrust in us to care for will be. I know I’ll be guarding my heart with that little one when the time comes- Protecting it, in case the placement doesn’t work out, or the biological family is reunited.
So now, when I know that this baby is all mine, and last I’ll carry in my tummy… I think of her as my last. And I know my time is limited.
In a few weeks or months, she’ll start crawling. She probably won’t want to snuggle as much anymore. She’ll want to explore and move. I pray when this happens, she’ll still come to momma and bury her face in my neck, that my cheek on hers will still calm her and put her to sleep.
And the cycle will continue, as it did with my older girls… I’ll be playing the count down in my head for how much time I have left with them. How many years until I have to share them with friends, boyfriends, husbands. Eventually, they’ll have children. And I pray that the time I had left will restart. Instead of counting down, it will be counting up. I’ll have years to watch my daughters be mothers, new cheeks to snuggle, and little hands to hold.
I know that my daughters can’t be little forever, as much as I want them to. The feeling of limited time with them is overwhelming, but looking ahead to the adults that they will be, and the mothers they will be gives me a little sense of excitement.