Why I’m Reluctant to Say Goodbye to the Baby Phase

home insemination Kit

I paused as I read the message: “I’m available next week if you want to go out for a little while. I can come over to watch Lily.” I had been anticipating this moment, but I wasn’t prepared. The thought of leaving my baby behind felt overwhelming. Admitting that to my friend would require a level of courage I wasn’t sure I possessed.

Lily is my third and final child. It was a difficult decision for my husband and me, especially since we’re not getting any younger and already have two lively boys, ages 5 and 7. After lots of discussions, we chose to embrace the joy of raising a baby once more. I have no regrets. My pregnancy was a delightful experience, even during those last uncomfortable weeks before her arrival.

The week leading up to Lily’s birth brought an unexpected warm front to New Jersey. Every day, I ventured out for a walk, hoping to nudge labor along. But as I strolled my neighborhood, I realized my heart just wasn’t in it. What I truly wanted was to feel those initial labor pains—not just to start the process, but because it signified I would soon have to share my precious little one with the world.

With my first two kids, I didn’t mind sharing. In fact, I often refer to them as my gifts to the world. They are two of the happiest kids you’ll ever meet, spreading smiles wherever they go. When they were babies, I’d take them grocery shopping, and they’d beam at everyone, sparking joy in those around them. I was so proud of how they brightened others’ days.

But Lily feels different. She feels like a gift to myself, and I’m struggling to convey that to others. My late 20s brought a friend’s advice that turning 30 would free me from caring about others’ opinions. I eagerly awaited that birthday, hoping it would bring newfound confidence. Alas, 30 came and went without any significant change, and as I near 40, I think I’m finally getting closer to expressing my needs. This baby feels like a test of that.

I now truly understand that the baby stage is fleeting. When Lily was just 8 days old, her umbilical cord fell off, and I felt a rush of emotion, realizing she was growing up. During those late-night feedings, I breathe in her sweet scent, savoring our quiet moments together. Her tiny fingers wrap around my thumb, and it feels like she’s trying to hold on to the nine months we spent together. When she pushes against my still-soft belly, my heart swells. I wish I could pause time and keep her all to myself. Am I losing it?

With my first two children, I was overwhelmed by new motherhood and couldn’t have imagined cherishing sleepless nights. An offer for a babysitter? I would have welcomed that. I craved the freedom to escape, but this time is different, and I want to voice that.

In the end, I bought myself some time and fibbed to my friend. I told her I’d go out next week, hoping a week would change my feelings. But I’m not too confident that it will.

Who knows? Maybe when I blow out 40 candles in a few years, I’ll finally find the courage to let others hold my baby.

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Summary

Claire reflects on her mixed feelings about the baby stage, especially with her third child, Lily. As she navigates the emotional challenges of motherhood, she cherishes each moment and grapples with the idea of sharing her little one with the world.