Let Me Hold You Longer

At night when I pray with the kids and rock them, I get a little nostalgic. I think of this poem almost every night as I give Grant his bottle. If he is my last baby, I've got a lot of lasts that have already happened and lots of last "firsts" that are on their way.

There's a giant part of me that can't wait for the kids to grow up - I'm excited for family game night, camping trips, and school programs. There's also a big part of me that tears up when I think that I might be giving my last baby his last bottle.

There are days when it seems like I'm in a never-ending battle... The struggle to keep the house picked up, the determination to get a good night's sleep, and the quest for some time alone seem to consume my thoughts. Then at night, when the kids are in bed and the battlefield is quiet, I start thinking about how short this season of my life actually is and how much I really love these kids.

Let Me Hold You Longer

Long ago you came to me, a miracle of firsts:
First smiles and teeth and baby steps, a sunbeam on the burst.
But one day you will move away and leave to me your past,
And I will be left thinking of a lifetime of your lasts...

The last time that I held a bottle to your baby lips.
The last time I lifted you and held you on my hip.
The last night when you woke up crying, needing to be walked,
When last you crawled up with your blanket, wanting to be rocked.

The last time when you ran to me, still small enough to hold.
The last time you said you'd marry me when you grew old.
Precious, simple moments and bright flashes from your past----
Would I have held on longer if I'd known they were your last?

Our last adventure to the park, your final midday nap,
The last time when you wore your favourite faded baseball cap.
Your last few hours of kindergarten, those last days of first grade,
Your last at bat in little league, last colored picture made.

I never said good-bye to all your yesterdays long passed.
So what about tomorrow----will I recognize your lasts?

The last time that you catch a frog in that old back yard pond.
The last time you run barefoot across our fresh-cut lawn.
Silly, scattered images will represent your past.
I keep on taking pictures, never quite sure of your lasts...

The last time I comb your hair or stop a pillow fight.
The last time I pray with you and tuck you in at night.
The last time when we cuddle with a book, just me and you.
The last time you jump in our bed and sleep between us two.

Written by Karen Kingsbury
From the book "Let me Hold you Longer"

....grabbing a Kleenex,
Sally