Simplifying… me

When Jackson turned a year old I embarked on a bittersweet  journey through grief.  People grieve for a number of reasons: Death of a loved one, a loss of some kind, a move, a change in job, divorce, an empty nest or their team losing the Rose Bowl.  There are so many reasons.  And I believe each one to be valid (and I will add that the process of grieving for any one of these is healthy and good).  It’s an important step, in my opinion, and a necessary one to move on to the next season of life. 

 

For me, my period of grief lasted about a year.  I wasn’t depressed.  I wasn’t experiencing post partum blues or any sort of clinical or physiological problems.  Simply stated, I was grieving the loss of having babies.  We all have our own issues.  This was one of mine. 

 

I love babies.  I have loved babies since the time I could hold a baby doll in my arms.  All I ever wanted in life was to get married and be a mom.  I dreamed of what it would feel like to have my own baby – to love, nurture, swaddle and kiss the sweet face of my very own child.  Joel and I had made the decision long ago that we would have three children.  I initially suggested four or five, but judging by the look of horror and downright fear on his face I quickly realized I was going to have to downsize my dream.  We settled on three, and have never questioned that decision.  In fact, after Jackson was born (even as I held his tiny body up close to my face and in a hormonal moment of tears and sweat blubbered, “Oh please don’t let this be my last baby,”) I sensed in my heart that our family was finally complete.  Even through Jackson’s first year, that conviction continued to solidify deep inside bringing me much peace and contentment.

 

Then my little guy turned one.  And something snapped.  No more babies.  This season I had so long waited and hoped for was coming to a close…and fast.  I felt sad.  I felt a sort of loss.  No more maternity clothes.  No more newborn sleepers and teeny tiny diapers.  No more toothless grins and late night feedings.  It was all passing away right before my eyes.  It’s not that I suddenly wanted another baby – I knew that season was completed.  Rather, I found myself needing to grieve it.

 

I shared this with very few people.  Most of the time if someone would ask us if we were going to have more children I was quick to roll my eyes and state matter-of-factly, “NO WAY!”  While on the inside I was struggling.  I had my moments when I knew if Joel had shown the slightest interest in having a fourth child I would have jumped at the idea.  It was an emotional roller coaster year for me.  One minute wishing we could have another child, the next minute being grateful that those years had come to a close.  Back and forth.  Back and forth.

 

Part of the grief was wondering what lie beyond the baby years.  What was my purpose beyond cleaning spit up and changing copious amounts of diapers every day?  I had always looked ahead toward the time I would finally settle down and have children, but I had never looked further than that…to the after part.  And this was where I found myself when Jackson turned one.

 

It was a good year.  God did amazing things in my life through the grieving process.  And slowly, as that year drew to a close, I discovered new things about myself.  An unexpected sense of confidence began to emerge, and eventually joy unfolded within me as I looked forward to a new beginning that was awaiting me.  A season that consists of making lunches, helping out with homework, sports events, ballet recitals, school programs, sleepovers, communicating with words instead of sounds, and family activities that don’t require strollers, diaper bags, and burp cloths.  A season of being a family, instead of building a family. 

 

Today Jackson turns three-years-old.  I can hardly believe my 8 pound, ruddy faced baby is now running around, tackling his sisters, playing with his cars, doing his “business” in the big boy potty and talking to me with a mouth full of teeth.  Amazing.  I would be remiss to say that I don’t feel the slightest little pang of sadness as I look at this precocious boy of mine and realize he is no longer a baby.  But that sad feeling doesn’t linger.  It wells up only for a brief moment, and then fades away fast in the pleasure I take in this new season I am entering.  

 

The grief was good.  I needed to face it, feel it and learn from it.  The blessing here is that I didn’t have to stay in that state of grief.  Once I journeyed through it what was waiting for me on the other side was a new beginning, and thus far I am becoming more and more convinced that I am going to thoroughly love this season as much as I loved the last.

 

So in conclusion I just want to say “Happy Birthday” to my little man.  Thank you, Jackson, for three marvelous years of growth, laughter, joy and unconditional love.  You are a blessing and a delight to me.  You brought me to this new beginning.  And, oh my, how I love you!

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