Sugar and Spice

I was given the privilege yesterday of taking dinner to a couple from our church who has a one week old, soft, snugly, gorgeous, bundle of all that is good and holy whose soft puppy noises melted my heart and whose scent was intoxicating.  A puppy, you say?  Nope.  A Jewel.  That's right...a perfect baby girl...named Jewel.  She was passed off to me a little fussy - just like I like 'em, so that I can calm and sooth and know that I still have "it."  She gave me a couple soft little burps right in my ear, nuzzled her face in the crook of my neck, and just did everything she could to remind me that she was the most precious creation God has ever made.  What an amazing gift it was to be able to hold this little bundle for a few minutes.

It was probably over a year ago at this point that I started trying to convince Daddy that we needed to have another baby.  He was dead set against it...to say the least.  He, as I've shared before, was done having kids and was sure that our family was "complete."  I, on the other hand, longed to be pregnant again and share the incredible journey of another baby with our "now" family. 

What is our "now" family?  It is our marriage in a better place than it has ever been and our children old enough to "get it," as much as a nine, six, and four year old can "get it."  It is our entire family all sitting around rubbing my belly, reading books to the fetus, cooing at the infant, all snuggling together, taking family walks together, etc.  It is the opposite of what our family was when Little Bit was born, which was more along the lines of chaos, terror, fear, disorderly conduct, etc.  You see, #2 and #3 are only 17 months apart.  We were NOT planning on having a #3, and certainly NOT planning on becoming pregnant with #3 when #2 was only nine months old and still nursing.  With our life having calmed down a bit - no cribs, no diapers, no highchairs, etc., I thought it would be a great time to have another baby!  Just one problem - Daddy did not.  Even a little bit.

Once we decided to jump onto the roller coaster that is adoption, I never looked back.  I no longer longed to be pregnant.  I no longer gazed longingly at pregnant women.  I no longer tried to catch each episode of A Baby Story.  I was actually quite relieved that I didn't have to worry about #4 being the one that put my body over the edge when it came to "bouncing back" to my pre-pregnancy weight and shape.  I didn't have to worry about morning sickness, afternoon sickness, evening sickness.  I didn't have to worry about the exhaustion that is pregnancy.  I didn't have to worry about our "intimate" life being put on hold for weeks or months.  All was good.

Until.

I.

Held.

That.

Pink.

Bundle.

Of.

Sweetness.

But, here's the thing.  I still don't want to be pregnant.  I'm over that.  But I did shed a tear knowing that I wouldn't have those moments with our #4.  No newborn baby smell.  No teeny tiny wrinkly hands that remind me of bird claws.  No umbilical cord to fall off.  No nursing.  No butt out, chest out, fists by ears, scrunched up face stretches.  No diapers the size of the palm of my hand.  No feather-fine hair to fall out.  No baby acne. 

I know that our journey this time is not "bad"...just different.  And I know that when #4 is placed in my arms for the first time, just as my newborn babies were, I will fall in love just as I did with #1, #2, and #3.  I know that I can't waste away time being sad about the things that we don't get to share and experience with #4, because that will mean I'm missing the things that I can.  I'm just going to have to take a few moments, at some point, to mourn the part of my child's life that I didn't get to be apart of and take advantage of every moment that we do have.