He was excited and nervous and worried about saying goodbye to me, which basically sums up E.’s reaction to most new things.
Q. and I weren’t sure if we were going to have to go and get him, but he had a fantastic time.
My last baby is in her last week of being a baby.
Every time E. does something new I’m reminded, again, that we will get a second chance to experience those firsts.
And every time P. does something new, I am reminded, again, that her firsts are also my lasts, for she is, truly, our last baby (despite E.’s insistence that we should have a third child because he’s “not done being a brother”).
She is the baby we never thought we were going to have, so every one of her firsts brings with it this complicated mix of emotions.
Gratitude. Grief. Nostalgia. Anticipation.
I am excited, so excited to see the little person she is in the process of becoming.
But it is bittersweet.
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