Blessings and Endings

Last Sunday was Andrew's blessing day. Ben and Emma were both blessed at home and Andrew was no exception. We had a sort of quiet, or at least as quiet as it can get with 6 little kids in such a small space, event attended by my parents, little sister and our adoptive family here in town. Andrew wore the cutest hand knit romper that my mom found for him, topped with a very special blue sweater that my grandmother had knitted for me when I was little. I must say that Drew made a devastatingly cute specimen in his finery.




Tyson performed the blessing and he did a great job. Andrew must of thought so too because he just cooed and giggled at his daddy the whole time. The rest of the kids were even quiet and calm for those two minutes, which is a miracle. Of course a bribe of fruit snacks probably helped a bit.


It was wonderful to be surrounded by people who love us and love Andrew, but at the same time, at least for me, there was lots of feelings of melancholy too. We knew when I was pregnant with Andrew, especially after the second trip to the hospital, that he had to be the last baby for us. At the time that knowledge was a relief knowing that my body wouldn't have to struggle through another pregnancy and surgery. But I didn't know then, or even suspect how hard it would be emotionally afterwards. Granted a chunk of this could very easily be due to leftover pregnancy and nursing hormones, but still. It's hard snuggling this bundle of yummy-ness knowing that these moments are so fleeting and are the last ones, least until grand kids, but frankly that's way to far in the future to be at all reassuring. Sometimes I'm so overwhelmed with sadness it makes it hard to actually enjoy the moment, it's just too sad. That sorta happened with Andrew's blessing. It was indeed wonderful, but I was very aware that this also was one of the many endings ahead of us. The ending of newborns, of babies in blessing suits, of baby giggles, eventually of diapers (though this one probably won't be so missed), too many endings to list. Endings are HARD. Fortunetly, however I completely held it together during the blessing and while people were still here. It wasn't till my parents had been on the road for 20 minutes that I decided to lose it. You want to know what pushed me over the edge this time? It's kinda silly. It was pictures. I realized that in all the hubbub I failed to get a photo of the blessing boy with the men who stood in the blessing circle. But that wasn't what did it. It was the fact that not only did I fail to get a picture of all the men folk, I didn't even get one with my dad and Drew, period. That started the water works and then they just got even worse when I realized that it wasn't just blessing pictures that I've missed. I do not have ANY pictures with Andrew and my dad. None, nada, zero! Of course now the melancholy overflowed all over the floor, and I think it even scared Tyson a bit. Not only was this my last baby, but I had somehow managed to forget to capture even one moment between him and my dad. I know that that might seem like a very minor thing to some, or all, of you, but too me, a woman who battles tears every time she hugs her infant and wants to capture and save every single second, it was devastating. Drew and dad won't be in the same place again till he's at least four months old, that's a lifetime (literally) for Andrew. Tyson offered to call my parents and ask them to come back, but I really couldn't ask them to drive an extra 40 minutes for a picture. Maybe I should have. I'm getting a little teary even now.


Well all that being said I've learned and relearned a few things these past few weeks. I've remembered that my husband never looks handsomer (is that a word) or more manly then when he's holding his babies. I've learned that if I had the choice of whether or not to find out when I'd die I'd choose not to know. Endings come regardless of whether you know it or not and knowing just makes enjoying what's left way too hard. But what I have really and truly figured out, finally, is that this little poem, you'll recognize it...

The cleaning and scrubbing will wait till tomorrow,
For children grow up, I've learned to my sorrow.
So quiet down, cobwebs. Dust go to sleep.
I'm rocking my baby and babies don't keep.

...is reality. So if you come to my house anytime in the near future and notice that I've left the dishes to pile up, haven't swept, moped, or vacuumed, and that the bathroom is verging on scary, you'll know why. I'll be driving around cars, dressing dolls, and rocking my babies every second that I can.