And nothing was ever the same…

28 Jul

Fourteen hours before, our family looked like this:


We had been out to dinner and then spent time at the local playground enjoying the somewhat cooler, albeit not much less humid, temperatures.  We watched our big guy run around, climb ladders, zoom down slides.  I waddled my way to the nearest slide and plopped at the bottom to take in the view.


It had been a strange day.  I’d felt… off, not myself, for most of it.  I told Tim several times that things seemed different.  No, I wasn’t having contractions – at least not anything timeable.  I just wasn’t feeling the same way I had the previous day.  It didn’t stop us from getting out of the house, or going about our usual Saturday activities.  It was just there – in the background – the whole day.

Perhaps it was that strange feeling that prompted me to get one last “just us three” photo.  Or, to remember to pull out my camera and get a picture of Lucas kissing his baby brudder.  I certainly didn’t think they would be “the last…” photos – the last belly picture, the last time Lucas kissed inside brudder — really, a portrait of the last moments of our tiny little unit before everything was going to change.


Lucas asked for extra kisses that night as I was putting him to bed.  Even that was strange — our routine is so solid, so unchanging — why he wanted to get back up and snuggle with me while standing on his bed, I wasn’t sure.  But, he needed “some more hugs, mommy” and “another kiss please” before drifting off to sleep.

Three hours later, I stood over his bed, dressed to head to the hospital after my water broke, and was so thankful for those sweet hugs and kisses from my biggest boy.  He laid sleeping, binkie in mouth and monkey in hand, and looked so little.  Hardly the bold, strong, fast and fierce two and a half year old who had been darting around the playground with a “I do it myself” kind of attitude.  Here, fast asleep, he holds onto the last vestiges of babyhood – sweet, still chubby, hands curled around his comfort item; kissy lips pursed on his pacifier; tousled hair and totally relaxed body.  I held his little hand, and told him that everything was going to change, but that even as my biggest boy, he’d always be my first baby.  I told him – although fast asleep – that brother would be here tomorrow and all would change as he knows it, but it would be for the better.  His built-in buddy would be arriving, but his parents would love him just the same, every bit as much, as we did that moment. And, walking away from that big bed holding that very small boy, was one of the hardest moments of the next 10 hours.


3 Responses to “And nothing was ever the same…”

  1. Marjorie Seamans July 28, 2013 at 4:42 pm #

    So well written/ Grampy

  2. Meghan July 28, 2013 at 7:57 pm #

    I can’t take posts like this in the final weeks of my pregnancy. I’m sitting here like an idiot with tears streaming down my face. Hoping I don’t fall apart when I leave my “big” boy!

  3. Teresa July 30, 2013 at 5:18 pm #

    I started to cry as well, brought back memories of leaving David to go to the hospital with Kelly. So beautifully written. What a gift you have Jessica.

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