Apparently hubby doesn't appreciate my choice in physical activities (Climbing Mt. Laundryest) because he went on a cleaning rampage the other night. This involved bringing large volumes of laundry to me. Whoopee. I did need to go through them though.
There I sat surrounded by tiny baby clothes. Remembering. Reminiscing. He didn't get why I was crying. Men. You know ladies. Most likely even if you have no baby clothes lying around you have some dress you wore on the first date with Mr. Right or the Sweater in which you finally realized he was Mr. Wrong. Whatever, clothes can bring this all back.
Tiny little baby clothes are sentimental to me. My mom saved clothes from when I was a baby for me to pass on to my kiddos. I have also saved clothes from Ella and now a few from Nate. I have found though that I am not as sentimental about Nate's baby boy clothes as Ella's. Girl's clothes are just cuter I guess. Maybe it is second child syndrome - you know, where you used to obsess about the pacifier hitting the floor with #1, #2 just sucks the fuzz off lol - or fill in your own second child shortcoming.
As I sifted through the tiny apparel I cried. Alex looked at me lovingly (but still like I had spontaneously sprouted a long scaly green tail) as I pressed the sweet little blue hedgehog outfit I brought you home in to my nose and inhaled. He promptly said "Umm, It doesn't smell. Its clean." Yes dear. Thank you. I realized I would probably never smell that sweet baby smell from my own children again. (Not the sour fermenting spit up smell, the post tubby sweet smell)
Notice I said PROBABLY. I don't want to say never because God has a sense of humor and I don't want to be stricken pregnant.
So I let go of a stage in my life, the 0-12 months age. So sweet. So innocent. So immobile. So completely, indescribably, simultaneously wonderful and utterly horrific.
My son will be 12 months old tomorrow. Thats 1 year old in normal adult language. One year ago today I was without you in my world Nate.
Happy Birthday Baby!