In typical fashion, his first year flew by. As he experienced all of his firsts I was also experiencing all of my lasts. His first time rolling over was the last time I would watch one of my babies roll over for the first time. His first time crawling, sitting up on his own, pulling himself up to stand, and then taking his first steps, his first tooth, his first foods, all of his firsts were my lasts. I would say often how "bittersweet" it was. But in truth it wasn't bitter, it was gut wrenching and painful. Of course there was the good in it all. The joy, the pride, the excitement. I felt like I was torn between two worlds. One of joy and happiness, the other pain and sorrow.
Even though I would always anticipate his birthdays with joy there was always the feeling of dread lurking in the shadows. But none were quite as sad for me as this birthday. For some reason the 5th birthday has always been a big milestone birthday to me for all my children. It's the birthday that I feel they become "big". They're not toddlers anymore, they're certainly not babies, they're not even preschoolers. They're big, full blown KIDS.
I know it's ridiculous, even typing this I SEE how ridiculous it is, but I've cried (or at least teared up) countless times over the last 6 months as we've moved closer to this milestone. When Grayson would crawl up in my lap I would smell his hair and breathe him in, cherishing every moment I could of his 4th year. And I would tear up.
There have been times where I have found myself tearing up as I bathed him and washed his hair, especially when he began asking me to let him to do it himself. I'd tear up when he'd be hurt and I expected him to need me to hold him and console him but instead he just wanted a band aid so that he could get back out and play some more. Even something as silly as him wanting to brush his teeth himself would put a lump in my throat a times. He was not only ready, he was eager to grow up and, well, I just wasn't. (I'm still not. And that goes for all of my "babies".)
Last night, the last night I would kiss my 4 year old goodnight he fell asleep on me. I honestly can't remember the last time he fell asleep on me and not only was it the first time in a very long time, but it was the last time as a 4 year old. The last time before he was officially a "big boy". A kid. It hurt my heart so much that my throat literally hurt from the lump I tried to keep down. The lump I knew would start the waterworks if I wasn't able to control it.
I know everyone says that childhood flies by in the blink of an eye. After all I've witnessed it myself. I know everyone talks about how bittersweet it is. But I'm not sure if the level of sadness I feel is normal. It doesn't feel normal. Babies grow into kids, and kids grow up. That's what they do. It's no surprise to anyone. It's life. I know this. Logically I know this. But why is it so incredibly painful? I didn't know it would hurt this bad. And if I'm alone in this, and it's an abnormal as it feels, why does it hurt ME, specifically, SO BAD.
Don't get me wrong. I'm more than happy, I'm utterly overjoyed to see my babies grow into these awesome kids. I love watching all they learn, all they do. I feel pride that's simply unmeasurable! It's just that sometimes the pain I feel has a hard time being outshined by that joy. It doesn't take it away, but it certainly skews it in some ways. I almost feel guilty at times for feeling so hurt.
Who would have thought that the never ceasing passage of time could cause so much sadness? I wish there were a way to paralyze the despair, to numb the sadness, deaden the pain.
I want to feel ONLY the happiness and pride and excitement without the fog that the negative feelings bring. I don't want to choke up over the most mundane events or tear up over accomplishments. I don't want to have to smile through the tears.
I just wish it were easier.
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