Tonight I Sobbed

I just finished nursing Charlotte for what could very well be the last time. I might get into the details of all that in another post, but for right now, I just want to remember. My face is still wet with tears, and my heart aches in a way that I haven't felt in a long time. And since this is likely my last baby, and my last chance to nurse, right now, I just want to write it all down so I can remember.

I want to remember the way she scrunched up her nose and eyes and started fussing for my breast as soon as she sat on my lap. And the way she'd flap her arms impatiently while she waited for me to get ready.

I want to remember the way it felt to have one of her tiny hands on my ribcage and the other on top of my breast as she filled up. And the way she'd sometimes pat me while she nursed.

I want to remember the smell of her sweet, soft hair on my nose and mouth as I kissed her head when she'd sit up and nurse, her whole body curled up in the small space of my torso.

I want to always feel the weight of her body, resting limply in my arms and on my tummy.

I want to remember the way she'd suck and suck until she'd relax enough to *just* fall asleep, and then as the breast would fall out of her limp mouth, she'd frantically latch on again and start sucking...and how she'd do this over and over again, never wanting it to be over.

I get that. I get the feeling that something you love so much, that you find so comforting is being ripped from you. I get the feeling of wanting it to last forever. I get it, dear Charlotte. I'm right there with you tonight.

So tonight I sobbed while you nursed. I tried to explain to you that I love you and I've done my very best and I'm so sorry that its come to this. I tried to explain that I want you to be healthy, and so as much as this hurts me, this is what we have to do. I tried to explain that, tomorrow, when you taste that formula for the first time, its not because I've abandoned you but because I'm doing everything I can to nourish you. I tried to explain, and your big blue eyes locked with mine forever and told me that maybe you understand more than I know.

And that's it. Maybe we'll have another chance to do this again in a few weeks. Maybe not. And I wish I could say that I have a peace about that, that I'm fine with whatever happens. But I'm not there yet. I'm thankful for the nursing time we've had so far, and I'm thankful for modern science that can try to overcome some of nature's problems. But there's still a lot of grieving to be done. I'm angry (with whom? God?) that it was ripped away from us earlier than either of us was ready for. I'm scared about what the future holds for your health. I'm mourning the passing of this era in my own life (am I really old enough to be done nursing my children?)

So many things whirling around in my head and heart. All I know for sure is that I love you desperately. Desperately.

Desperate Times...

See these cute teeth? Well, there are more where they came from and its hard work getting them here!
Sometimes the "approved methods"...you know, like teething rings and wet washcloths...just don't cut it (pun intended).

So then I have to find my own creative ways of getting the job done.

This is my latest and greatest find.

What can I say??? Desperate times call for desperate measures.

8 Months

Charlotte turned 8 months old yesterday, and she continues to grow so fast! She's mastered crawling and pulling up, and even does a bit of cruising here and there. She can pull up on anything - an empty laundry basket, your pant leg, or even the wall - and she's soooo proud of herself when she does.

Her mobility has us in official "redirection mode," constantly keeping an eye out for what big people things (or 3 year old things) that she's found that she shouldn't have. Elizabeth's in on the patrol too, as yesterday she exclaimed "Danger! Danger! Danger! Charlotte's in the bathroom without any company!"

I got permission from the GI doc to start her on fruits, so she now has bananas too. She's still a good eater, although when she's done, she's done, and there's usually very little warning. She'll eat and eat and eat, and then refuse any more. I suppose she's tolerating all her foods alright, but still has outbreaks that look like she's had cows milk (which I'm doing my darnedest to avoid), so I wonder if she's having a sensitivity to another food as well. Its really hard to pinpoint anything.

She has two teeth (the two front bottom ones) and constantly gnaws away at anything she can get in her mouth.

She thinks her big sister is SOOO funny. It warms my heart to see the two of them together. Elizabeth gets downright obnoxious trying to make her laugh. My husband and I find it to be annoying at times, but find it hard to calm Elizabeth when we see how amused Charlotte is by it.

So, all in all, we're still chuggin' along with lots of laughter and smiles, a little stress and a few tears, but lots and lots of joy.

Preachers' Kid

So you know its bad when your three year old is sitting at the dining room table with her dinner in front of her, waiting for the rest of the family to join her, saying over and over again to herself "thanks be to God...thanks be to God."

She apparently has a certain affinity for this phrase lately because I've overheard her saying it several times today. I asked her once "do you need help getting down from the stool", to which she replied "yes". Then I helped her and she said, "*sigh*, thanks be to God."

Not really sure what this is about, but I find it pretty funny. I suppose there are worse things she could learn from us and our vocation.

Great Expectations

Elizabeth has recently learned how to button and unbutton her clothes by herself. Last week, we were in a Mexican restaurant, and she needed to use the restroom so I took her. I stood and watched in amazement as she fiddled with the button on her shorts until it finally released, did her thing on the potty, carefully got herself dressed again and all buttoned up, and washed and dried her hands. All by herself. The only thing she needed me for was to open the heavy door.

Feeling kind of nostalgic, I looked her in the eye and asked, "Elizabeth, why are you growing up so quickly?" To which she replied - in a sort of pastoral care tone of voice - "Mom, I have to grow up so I can be a fire fighter."

Ah, yes, my child. As much as my heart sometimes aches when I'm forced to acknowledge the constant passage of time, you do have to grow up. I suspect that your vocational aspirations will change a hundred times over your lifetime, but regardless of where they settle, you do have great things to be for yourself and for the world. And that necessarily requires you becoming increasingly independent. Increasingly independent from me. I marvel at how, just three short years ago, you and I were one. You needed me for everything. How things have already changed so much.

I was retelling this story yesterday at a pastor's retreat, and one gentleman reminded me that Elizabeth's response was probably very similar to what Jesus' would have been, had Mary asked him the same question. "But Mom, I have to grow up so I can do the important work of God."

Regardless of what's to come, she already doing the work of God. Every day. In bits of wisdom like this, and in so many other ways, she is bringing about the realm of God in this world. And, I, like Mary, ponder these things in my heart.