Little Goodbyes

I even miss this chaos.

It is a fresh gut punch with each child. The last time I carried them, the last time they climbed into my lap, the last time we snuggled under their special blankey to read bedtime stories. It is both a great honor and a quiet tragedy that our most important job as parents and guides of young children is to accompany them, but also lead them through a series of little goodbyes.

My baby is a young adult now, but I can still hear the soft rhythm of her sucking her thumb, feel her fuzzy hair against my cheek, her plump, sticky hand wrapped in mine. I miss the cozy days of her nestled under my chin. Even with her lying on my chest, I mourned those moments slipping away just like they had slipped away with her older siblings.

The tragic winding down of a parent’s journey is to lead their child away from needing them, first from the little things, but eventually from the big ones. When my oldest was an infant, I dreaded the day he would use his little legs to walk away from me. While his first steps were a joyful celebration, they were also a metaphor for all the steps he would take in the years to come. A promise that he would keep going.

My arms full of babies

I would recognize my children’s hands or feet anywhere, shaped by hours of holding, memorizing. The warmth of their small bodies pressed against mine is a feeling I'll carry forever. Those moments are imprinted on my heart. Long after the details fade, the feelings remain. There is an irony in longing for the very days I necessarily helped bring to an end.

And that is our job, not to hold them forever, but to love them as they move forward. Each little goodbye is the essence of being a parent. Ushering them on, into the next phase, from crawling to walking and then running on their own.

Little warm bodies