Baby No More

One of the unexpected and overwhelming things about having a baby was all the stuff. I had three good sized showers and literally a truck load of used stuff given to me. Before A was even born, there was two rooms full of stuff for her. I didn't buy anything for her until well after she was a year old. This was a blessing indeed, and I'm certainly not complaining, but I do admit it was a lot.

Small humans change very quickly in their first couple of years, so all this stuff had a very short shelf life. There was a constant rotation of clothes, toys, books and gear that I could barely keep up with, and neither could my very limited storage space. I know people who save everything for one reason or another, but I simply didn't have the capacity, the plan for a second child, or the collector's mindset to accommodate that.

I have a small collection of special things, but other than that I have made a great effort to recycle all the wonderful baby stuff to people who needed it. Millions of babies go without all of this (and still survive to be fine adults), and I tried to keep my great fortune in perspective.

There are a few things, however, that I've held on to for seemingly no good reason. She's far too old for them, and I am definitely not having another baby. Stuff can be a good way to hold on to memories of a time gone by, and these last lingering things serve that purpose for me, I guess.

A good family friend is having a baby, and she's had lots of trouble both getting pregnant and staying pregnant. She was on bedrest for months and hadn't been able to get very prepared. I felt compelled and very happy to be able to give her some of these last lingering things: the Ergo, the co-sleeper, some breastfeeding supplies.

I didn't think anything of the offer. She needed it and it's just taking up space in my house. But as I was packing up all these things I was surprised that I was feeling really sad about these things leaving my house. Not because of the stuff itself, but because of what it represented to me.

I remembered the days when A was so little that I could cuddle her up and wear her around in the Ergo. I had such cabin fever on maternity leave, and we went on lots of cozy walks together during that time.

The co-sleeper was given to me by my mother-in-law in honor of her mother-in-law, who had just passed away. Though she never actually slept many nights in the co-sleeper, it was a constant companion in our room (it still is), insurance that if little baby A rolled off the bed, she'd be caught and safe. I was fond of Grandma L and it made me remember her every day.

Breastfeeding, for me, was a mixed bag. It was difficult to get in the swing of it, and it was difficult to feed a baby that couldn't eat very well. I didn't produce tons of milk, but just enough to feed her. I have bittersweet memories of going back to work and having to pump in my office, sneak out of meetings to pump, pumping while traveling wherever I could find a private spot. So stressful. But it was such a beautiful time with my baby, and such an amazing feeling that I could keep her alive with my own body. There are no words that can express the preciousness of that bond. She doesn't remember it now, but I will never forget it.

Letting go of all this stuff really brought it home to me that she is already far too old to need it, and I am definitely not having another baby. I don't really want to re-live all of it, but I just wish it lasted a little longer. Motherhood is just a long, slow process of letting it all go, and this is one of the first milestones to mark that process. Ouch.