the seasons are changing.

Monday, October 7, 2013

The seasons are changing.

My toddler barrels toward her third birthday.  She speaks in sentences, mostly uses the potty, and in the past few weeks, has moved from pulling a puppy on a string to coloring for hours or rocking baby elephants to sleep.

Meanwhile, one son is learning to read (as long as nobody is looking), and the other has developed a new desire to engage that I love.  The outside world reflects our inner landscape, and I've spent the past week trying to prepare us.  I've unearthed sweaters and boots, and I've given away rattles and onesies.

Because the baby - the last baby - will be a year old in a few weeks.

Mostly I am thrilled.  His next year is my favorite, punctuated by first steps and first words and a complete fascination with the whole world.  It is an honor to watch it unfold.  Soon he will wean, and my body will be my own again.  But for the first time in nine years, my mind is not wandering to the next baby.

Since 2004 my mind has been consumed with babies.  I have daydreamed about them, prayed for them, waited for them, grown them, recovered from them, nurtured them.  At every first birthday party, some part of my heart was already leaning toward the idea of the next baby.  It was the unspoken clause in every sentence about our future.  This house is perfect! (until the next baby.)  I love my job! (until the next baby gets here.)  For nine years.

Now he is turning one.  And our lives are changing.

My husband is five months into recovering from a brain injury.  Typically, brains take about a year to heal.  Five months is long enough to fall into something resembling normal life.  But it is not the same normal we have known for thirteen years, and five months in, I feel the tug.  I miss who we were, and I don't yet know who we'll be on the other side of this experience.  Life is predictable, but not comfortable.  It is in flux.

In fact, I can't predict much of my life right now.  I don't know what it will be like to have toddlers with no babies on the horizon.   I don't know how I will feel without that next baby clause in a corner of my heart.  I don't know if I'm prepared for our first winter in Colorado, and I don't know my husband's accident will change us.

Most of my life is unknown, but I am at peace.

As the next year unfolds, my task is to remain open.  To accept changes and welcome new seasons.  To say thank you for where we've been, and to remain hopeful for what's ahead.

The seasons are changing.  I will not be afraid to change with them.


  1. I think you're gonna like this babyless season. It becomes normal, you finish your last pack of diapers, and it gets easier, and you'll look back and wonder how you ever did what you're doing now.

  2. The last =). My mother in law had her 3 boys each exactly 2 years apart, to the month. She said when her youngest turned two, she found herself swaying like she was holding a newbown =)



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