10/03/2025
The last baby is different.
With them, every single thing feels like both a gift and a goodbye.
You hold them and think, this might be the last newborn smell I ever breathe in.
You rock them to sleep and think, this might be the last baby that ever fits this small on my chest.
You find yourself memorizing things you used to rush through; the way their tiny feet kick in the bath, the sound of their first babbles, even the midnight cries.
Because deep down, you know this chapter is closing.
The last baby softens you in ways you can’t explain.
They make you cry in the middle of folding their onesies especially the last one they would be wearing .
They make you linger in the rocking chair long after they’ve fallen asleep.
They make you realize just how much of motherhood you once hurried through.
And when you kiss them goodnight, it hits you. 🥹
This is the last first smile.
The last first crawl.
The last first everything.
That’s what makes the last baby so heavy on your heart.
They are both your beginning and your goodbye.