This morning I was jokingly wrapping Scotland up as a baby and rocking him. He rarely enjoys this silly display of affection, but this morning he went along with it. As I held him and started to sing his lullaby “Baby Mine” my eyes welled with tears and I couldn’t continue after the second line. I sang that song to him every night for two years, holding him comfortably in my arms then, his now cumbersome size (combined with my belly) made our embrace laughable now. It’s been months since I’ve sang Scotter to sleep, and the realization that those days are gone brought an immense sadness to me. I loved those baby years with Scotland, and while I know I’ll have a new baby to rock in a few months, the thought that those times with Scotland have passed made my arms and heart ache. How grateful I am that I’ve been able to be so present with Scotland through these past three years. I was so nervous when I got pregnant with him, and then when his birth drew near, but to my great relief I found I have a huge mothering heart, and I LOVE the act of mothering. I took every opportunity to sing to him, rock him, read to him. I spent hours talking to him as he cooed back, and taking him for walks and runs in his stroller. I loved introducing him to life, and helping him become aware of a world of beauty large and small. I loved the closeness that having to hold him constantly brought us.
Now I have a toddler, and things are very different.  I love our conversations filled with dinosaurs, cars, and repetitions. I love hearing his view of the world, and watching as he absorbs with breathtaking speed. I’m proud of his increasing independence, even though it saddens me to see that I’m become less and less needful. Scotland has erupted blazingly into the world of imagination. This morning we were floating on a house boat, this afternoon he made me an entire lunch complete with watermelon, peach pie, spinach, and hot chocolate all with blocks. A pile of large cardboard boxes has become a mainstay in our living room- their form rapidly changing from house, to boat, to microwave. But, I don’t get to hold Scotland as much. He rarely chooses to sit on my lap as we read stories (again I’m not sure my belly is helping the matter) and the fact that I can’t carry him for long periods of time, means that when he does want me to “take him” I often can’t. I miss that closeness. I yearn for the days when he was attached to me via baby bjorn.
But, those times are gone.