Momentary Sadness

Today I had the blessing of traveling with my 1st grader and her class on a field trip. I was really excited. Excited for me. Excited for her and excited for my husband to have time with the littles ALL BY HIMSELF. He was taking them to Crayola and it seemed like it was going to be the perfect day.

The bus ride was almost comical, with a healing tailbone and a three seater, I was carefully buckled in on the end watching my two little cherubs excitedly await their anticipated event at the zoo. As we pulled up I gave directions to my little group and we headed in lathering up with sunscreen to beat the warm rays that flooded the area with beauty this week.

We began our journey into the Zoo, and at first I was struck my my keen eye for women expecting. How I longed to have that joy of a roly poly baby growing within. I longed for those late night feedings, those sweet baby snuggles and the new baby smell I can vividly remember from my years with my own infants.

Then, I saw the strollers. Moms, with one or two kids, out for the day while dad was at work. "Killing time" while they wished these toddler and infant years weren't so tough. I wanted to whisper, "take it all in", "this is a gift". I remember hearing it myself and also hearing how fast these years went but never believing the time would move so quickly.

As I took it in, I watched as my little group eagerly looked at animals racing from exhibit to exhibit and I listened as they chattered asking about the exhibits they saw. Then it hit.

I listened as the toddlers surrounding us made the noises the animals made.

I watched as little ones lathered with sun block peering out from floppy sun hats pointed and asked inquisitively what the animals were.

I realized in that moment, that this, the "normal" I had experienced in my children before would not be the normal I know now.

I realized that I may never hear my daughter make the noises the lion makes or point to the zebra inquiring as to what it is?

This new place, this new path isn't one I would choose. In fact, if I could turn in my new "special needs parent" card, I would...but I can't.

God blessed me with this child. She's a gift. I think back to the warm days after her birth as I snuggled her on the couch reflecting on the delivery I barely made it through. I think about how easily she assimilated into our family and how her siblings adored her from her moment of birth and I think about how she helps to complete our family.

Today, I am stuck in a momentary sadness. I am quietly sitting, listening to the birds and afraid to acknowledge our new normal. For today, I have some momentary sadness.


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