It felt great finally getting to a job that I had been pushing aside for so long. Organising, cleaning, finding new places for things, moving toys onto the growing 'give away' pile and generally finding a room again under baskets and tubs of STUFF. Craig had the two littlies upstairs. With a half day off, he was spending time being just daddy. As the day followed a double shift, Henry and Daisy were loving every minute. Music, laughter and the sounds of little kids dancing drifted down the stairs. I absent mindedly moved more toys aside, still smiling at the craziness that was going on in the lounge above.
Then, there they were. A couple of very small discoveries that brought sudden tears to my eyes. Little toys that would mean nothing to anyone else, but oh so much to me. Two tiny rattles and a plastic link. Nothing really. Only, so much. Maybe too much. Some of the last remaining pieces of babydom.
A few months ago, before Daisy was beyond baby, I gave pretty much everything away. Everything. I was contacted by a friend, who had found someone who was soon due to have a baby girl. The mother had nothing. She needed help. I could give it. So I did. The timing was perfect. I passed it all on, emotional, but completely happy to see everything go to someone who desperately needed it. And Daisy was still a baby. At least I could still tell myself that.
Daisy is no longer a baby. She may look like one as she sleeps, but she can say 'cot' now, so a toddler she has become. I have loved seeing her grow and change. Knowing she is the last, I have paid close attention to every moment and the other children have been old enough to enjoy it with Craig and I. Just about every observation has been shared. Learning to clap, to crawl, to walk, to talk: has been a together experience. The moving on has flowed, on the river of time, as I have slowly left pieces behind, this time never to experience again. And I'm ok with that. The new, fun and grown up stages are yet to come. I'm so excited! I can't wait to see what comes next.
And yet, the rattle. And tears.
The sadness found in a moment of time passing reflects just how much that moment meant in the first place. The wonderful, quiet, loud, sleep deprived, cuddly, baby-scented moments are over. Gone. But I will always have the memories. And the all consuming love, that I very much doubt will ever change. The hard parts that once were, will continue to fade, and the good times will remain.
I decided that I would keep just one rattle. It couldn't hurt to be brought back to the simple, confusing, magical time of my babies once in a while. Cherishing the past will help me get through the tough moments to come. I know now that the good is mixed in with the bad, and the good is more than worth it. Eventually, in any situation, the tough bits will fall away, leaving me stronger than I ever was before. That has become clear.
With one last look at the rattle I put it away. I feel heavy with moving on from an experience that can never quite be put into words. I feel I have experienced overwhelming, life changing grace, that I was blessed to be a part of someone's babyhood five times over. And to work out along the way how wonderful it could be despite the pain, constant questioning, sadness and often defeat. I learnt to love beyond all reason and understanding, knowing that in a heartbeat I would give everything for someone other than myself. The little hands that touched my heart, forever changing it, showed me how to be content in the small and the slow and the everyday. They taught me to notice what matters most.
I doubt I will come across that tiny rattle for many years to come. But on seeing it again I know that I will instantly be back in the baby time once again. The moment in time, however brief, when I became someone's mummy, forevermore.x
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