Nostalgia

It's a silly thing, isn't it, Nostalgia? Me, I'm nostalgic for almost everything. I find change incredibly difficult, and letting go of anything causes me a lot of grief. To whit, the piles of baby clothes carefully folded away in our loft. And the fact I cried when my sister in law picked up the family cradle a couple of weekends ago. And yes, I know that's not nostalgia, but I have a point, honest I do.

 A few minutes ago I brushed my teeth, washed my face, and wandered in and out of the bedroom and bathroom, tidying and putting my suit away, getting ready for bed. I'd just been upstairs to gently nudge Junior awake enough to take his medicine (tonsillitis, the latest in a stream of lurgies which has visited our house recently). And I came down and the absence of the cradle in the bay window suddenly seemed utterly visceral. It will never be there again. I will never creep around when I'm getting ready for bed, concerned about disturbing my tiny baby. I'll never wake in this bed again, hearing those powerful newborn demands for food, and stumbling in the dark to the cradle to pick up my swaddled infant.

And it felt like such a big loss, such a huge thing to let go of. At the same time, I can remember at a factual level how awful those early weeks were, the utter utter tiredness, the lack of rationality, my feeling that I'd lost that precious relationship with Pob. I remember, but I don't remember how it felt, just that it was true. And so that leaves me with the feeling of loss, a weird loss because I don't want it back, exactly, I just want it not to be gone forever. I want a baby to wear those clothes, sleep in our room again, but I know that at the same time we are going to be happier as a family of four than I ever dreamed we could be, and almost certainly happier than as a family of five (as if that was even possible). I don't want another baby, but I do, oh I do.

So it is Nostalgia. a bittersweet yearning for something past. I yearn for those months of being on leave, having lots and lots of unstructured time with my children, for the tiny baby that Junior was, for learning to be a family of four. I yearn for it even while I know that parts of it were miserable, that the person Junior is now is in many ways so much more fun, more loveable. I'm not sure I'm ever going to lose that Nostalgia. I'm sure other things will replace it. But being nostalgic is a strong part of my personality, and this is such a profound shift in my life that I think it will always be there. I'll always miss the babies they were, even as they delight me with the new things they can do. That's my lot from now on, and I'm lucky, oh so lucky, I get the luxury of feeling this way. Of feeling this sad and this hopeful, of holding all those feelings in place at the same time.

Comments

[Yo-yo Mama]

I was just telling someone today how a few weeks after I came home, I remember falling into bed (literally) after one of the many nursing sessions and crying in exhaustion, asking my husband, what did we do???

And now I would love to be right back in that moment so badly.

[Krista]

As I read this I could have cried and cracked up at the same time. I had almost forgotten, but reading your words sent me right back into that dizzying whirlwind that was bringing home a second child. I remember weeping and telling my Mom that Caden and I had a special relationship, that it was him and I against the world, and now it was gone ... GONE... and it would never be good again.

Oh the drama. Of course now I have two special relationships... but then.. meh.. who knew it would turn out like this!

And I am also with you on the piles of baby clothes, although I will tell anyone who asks that I am done. Oh... and I have decided that we will pay storage fees on our frozens indefinitely because right now I can't imagine the finality of doing anything else.

[statia]

I'm so with you on this. I've been having a hard time with it to a certain extent. I saved all of the Mini's clothes after he grew out of them. They literally filled an entire walk in closet under my basement steps. I thought, "well...maybe...someday...again." And when that someday came and we found out we were having a girl. I all of a sudden had no problems getting rid of most of the clothes. I saved what was most sentimental to me, and saved some of the gender neutral stuff, to use again. I had my moments with the memories they presented and then either passed along or consigned what I was never going to use again.

When the baby was done with all of the gear, I had no problem moving it out of my home, as it takes up so much room. The nagging in my head was only slight.

When I went through her clothes, I went through the same emotions, but they were a bit stronger, knowing that she outgrew them so fast and that I'd never do it again.

The stuff is just STUFF. It does represent what will never be again, but the memory of just how small she was, (and him too, though it's more hazy than hers was, obviously), and how fast it went, is what's really killing me. She'll be one soon. She's stopped co-sleeping. She's saying words. And I think to myself "my god, she just needs to slow down. It's going way too fast." Even though the newborn haze was hell, I feel cheated. I want that time back.

And yet, life is getting so much easier now, and I can't deny that it's kind of nice.

I don't think there's any winning in this situation. I think you have to just accept it and move on, or it'll just eat at you.

[Aurelia]

The nostalgia never ends, just changes. I am nostalgic for everything, over and over and over again.

Teen stage, child stage, toddler stage, baby stage---I go backward and freak out. The only thing I can think of to say is that each new stage has great moments and bad ones and it will always shift. Always.

[Dead Bug]

Beautifully put. So, so true.

[serenity]

This is a gorgeous post. There are so many times where I've felt this same sort of longing and happiness, all at once. I feel it a lot when I look at O lately, knowing that he's almost two, and how I'll never cradle that tiny baby in my arms again. (Yes, I may have another baby, O's sibling, but I'll never cradle HIM as a tiny baby in my arms again.)

Anyway, I know that feeling you describe so well. And I expect that when we decide that we're done with building our family, I'll feel the same way.

xxx

[Girl Detective]

Perhaps I am just a hard-hearted Hannah, but I don't have that kind of nostalgia. The work of having a newborn, and the toll it took, physically with #1 and mentally/emotionally w/#2, overwhelm any other feelings. My younger is now 4, elder 6.5, and I feel like I'm in a pretty sweet spot. I kind of like clearing out the old clothes and sending them on to my sister for her son. I feel lighter when I'm done.

However, I _do_ have that nostalgia for a time in my late 20's/early 30's when I lived on my own, was trying to get my life together, figure out what I wanted, and met a wonderful group of strong, smart women that I read books with, learned from, had breakfast with. Many are still in my life. That reading, those discussions, those breakfasts. THOSE I feel nostalgia for.

[Kath]

What a beautiful, evocative post, my dear.

[Sara]

I am still in limbo between one and hopefully-but-probably-never two, and I still feel this. It's POSSIBLE that I will have a newborn again, but by far more likely that I never ever will. I think that for me, the nostalgia is compounded by the fact that bringing home Eggbert was actually the most wonderful thing I had ever experienced at that time. I loved her tiny baby stage, even though I felt physically wretched through much of it. I don't think that's selective memory either. At the time, I wondered if there was such a thing as post-partum euphoria and if hormones were responsible for my crazy joy. I realize that it wouldn't be the same way the second time--that there will be real losses that I would regret, like the loss of lots of quality one-on-one time with Eggbert, but I still really wish it would happen. Still, it does have to stop somewhere. Even the Duggars will someday have their last baby, and then will have to accept that this part of life doesn't go on forever. I'm trying to just keep focused on the fact that Eggbert is just as magical now as she ever was then. I'm just more used to it.

Good luck coping with these feelings. You're not alone.

[katie]

I don't have the baby time to look back on, obviously, but like Girl Detective, I have my own nostalgia memories... and some of them are of things that were hard but I Did It.
I guess I just keep trying to make more of them?

[Bea]

Great post.

You've put your finger on it - nostalgia. That certainly helps disentangle things from the desire for another. There's always going to be that, I suppose.

Bea

[Betty M]

Although the new one has barely been here 2 weeks I am already feeliing nostalgia for my pregnant self and for the teeny tiny clothes that fit L but that he was too big for at birth. My difficulty has always been a tendency to wallow in the nostalgia instead of focusing on what I have now.

[Summer]

I completely understand what you are trying to say. As we try for our #2 but also face the possibility that TK will be our one and only, I feel a lot of nostalgia for those newborn days. Yet, I also rememeber how harrowing some of those days were and part of me feels ok if I never have to go through the difficult newborn days again (although I would be more than happy to go through them if there was a #2).

[Siera]

I found you by way of Statia. You really put me back into those first few weeks as a new mom. It was freaking hard and I was so sleep deprived. I can't believe my son will be 2 in a couple of weeks. Thanks for the memories.

[T]

Considering I look back on my hospital stay as my "vacation" - I relate to this beautiful post completely! I know I'll never have another and I do yearn for those early days - the newness, the learning about this particular baby, seeing the two of them together. But yeah - three? No chance.

And THIS is why I don't blog or comment much - can't form a proper sentence to save my life! I still read, but don't comment as often b/c someone will be tossing paint or drawing on her brother or climbing on the kitchen counter - you get the picture. So often I shut down the laptop at night with blogs left open - I just run out of time.

[MsPrufrock]

A wonderful, wonderful post. I'm always struck by my own nostalgia considering what an absolutely dreadful time I had in P's early life. Hell, the first two years. I will swear for the rest of my life that I had a form of mild PTSD for that period which has taken time and anti-anxiety meds to help heal. Yet, I find myself missing that newborn and baby phase myself. Based on what, I don't know.

Thinking about this reminds me of your kind offer to help out soon after P was born. I was in such a horrible place, and your generosity will never be forgotten, and I mean that.

[Tinker]

I've been thinking about this this week even though we already signed away our few remaining embryos at the end of February; likely it's because Baby T will be a full year on Friday and on Saturday I'm participating in a used childrens clothing and gear sale that will see a trememdous amount of baby stuff leave our house.

I don't think nostalgia is bad, though it does carry a negative connotation because of people who get so wrapped up in pining for the past that they can't live their present lives. I don't think that's the case with you. I think you're savouring the thought of what was, but I know you're happy to live with your sweet little ones as they are now: growing, learning, character-building, independence-developing, brilliant little people.

[Jennifer]

I'm so there with you-I don't know if it's nostaglia, dealing with the fear of losing those small babies that we had to work so hard to get, or how the challenges become more complex as they get older. I don't really know. I find myself looking at pictures, holding sleepers, and wanting so much to do it again. There are a large number of reasons why we are pretty sure that we won't do it again. But I still won't hold that new baby again, and won't feel the kicks, and I can't help but be so sad.