The Last Baby: Remembering Life B.C.

My last baby turned four today, which most parents know will trigger a slew of emotions. As my birthday girl snuggled in my arms tonight, I tentatively opened Google Photos, typing in her birthdate and knowing I was opening up a portal to memories I wasn't sure I could yet handle.

These birth memories hit differently because my last baby was also the last time I remember life being "normal". I mean, don't get me wrong, my life has always been on the crazy spectrum but my life B.C. (Before Covid and Before Cancer) was full of normal crazy. I miss those days with a grief that hits deep sometimes.

What I would give to go back in time, before Covid and cancer would bring so much turmoil, stress, sadness and uncertainty.

When I looked back on the pictures of me laboring my last baby into the world, one of the first things I noticed was the smooth shininess of my face and my hair. Not one gray hair has begun, my lips still look full of color and collagen. It was only four years ago, but If I needed any proof of what life has done to me lately, I need not look further than the extensive graying hairs peeking out all over my head and the dullness of my skin. That only makes me yearn for life B.C. even more.

Not only because I miss feeling youthful, but because I can see evidence in those old photos that life has not yet beaten me down. I know this sounds melodramatic, but our life has felt like one hard blow after another where we've sadly become accustomed to being ready for battle.

First it was COVID, then cancer roared in simultaneously (seriously though-we all got COVID right after the initial cancer diagnosis and I honestly thought the ground was opening up to swallow us whole.)

In between all the Covid and cancer, we also buried three beloved pets, saw our youngest through a scary weeklong stay in the ICU after Metapneumovirus took her down, and muddled our way through deep depression and anxiety.

Though I fully acknowledge how privileged we are to have access to great health care and to still have a roof over our heads, as I know so many do not, our life has been full of sucker punches and shattering kicks that have made us weary and humble.

So, forgive me tonight as I ramble on about The Good Ole' Days, as my heart sometimes aches to go back in time. I'd savor that new baby smell and tell myself to stay fully present as often as I could, as those normal worries are nothing to worry about after all.

When I remember my grand finale fourth birth, I recall it being painfully long and pretty awful! At 36 weeks, at a routine checkup, I was told to go straight to the hospital to be induced since I had barely any waters left and the baby was measuring too small. The doctor was concerned my baby wasn't getting enough nutrients since I'd been measuring small throughout my pregnancy and constantly felt tired. I'd never been induced so I arrived to the Labor and Delivery ward with trepidation. It took several interventions to get contractions going and I remember feeling like I'd been in that hospital room for several days before I was finally ready to push my baby girl out!

So as I looked at the time stamps on the Google Photos from that day, I was shocked that it was really only 24 hours between walking into the hospital without any signs of labor and her actual birth. I swear it was longer than that! In fact, I distinctly remember crying as I walked the halls to see the other rooms that were filled with other laboring mamas just hours earlier empty, because they all had successfully delivered their babies and were now resting in the Mother-Baby Unit with babes in arms. My stubborn little munchkin would not budge and I felt like a lonely failure as I did yet another lap around the labor ward.

If I could go back in time, I'd look into my laboring eyes and tell myself to not rush this, that this was actually going to be one of the most treasured experiences you'd ever have with your husband, that you'd one day long to go back to that day when Ty made you laugh through contractions and the sound of your baby's heartbeat would be heard echoing reassuringly as episodes of HGTV played in the background and Ty rubbed your back. It would be the last time you'd feel that magical sensation of a baby moving inside of your belly, and the last time you'd get to experience the pure wonder as you anticipated what you knew would be the most wondrous moment-when your baby slipped out of you and onto your chest, making you a mommy for the fourth and final time.

I know there will be countless more firsts and even more lasts as I see my four babies through their own lives. Today, my last baby got her first bike and rode around the driveway with confidence. She completed our family four years ago today and I can't help but feel guilty that most of her life has been consumed by COVID or cancer or both, as she was only 6 months old when the world shutdown and we shut ourselves inside. She will never remember much from life B.C., but I do find comfort knowing she also got more time at home with our entire family and that she likely learned how to be resilient and emotionally intelligent since she has already been exposed to so much in her short time here.

I think Ty and I are both grieving our old lives, especially right now as we navigate our aging bodies and face challenges we were naive to think would never come to our doorsteps.

So, for today, I am allowing myself to ache longingly for that one day in August 2019 when a tiny five-pounder lay warmly on my chest, taking my breath away and stealing another piece of my heart.

Maybe tomorrow, I'll be ready to look at those same photos with fresh eyes that can simply be thankful I even got to experience such goodness in my life at all, since none of us our promised this and we certainly don't deserve such sweetness. I miss those good ol' days B.C., and now can only hope that future good times are even sweeter after the sourness we've been living.