Seasons in clothing and life

I finally finished re-organizing the boys' winter clothing for storage in our household's biannual seasonal clothing change.  Just yesterday.  It is a task that I both enjoy and dread.

On one hand, I am pleased to remember how blessed we are.  I revel in the base-level practicality of it all, knowing that I don't need to even think about clothes for the next boy.  I like the nostalgia of memories triggered of my boys at certain ages.  I love the frugality.

On the other hand, it is a fairly sizable task to tackle while my three little guys dance around me.  It always seems insurmountable and I usually put it off for weeks and weeks.

But as I folded baby clothes yesterday morning, the ones that Jamie has grown out of, stacked upstairs for later organization, I felt the weight of sadness.  The memories.  Those little, soft baby clothes with the sweet-smelling, fat baby that goes in them.  My tender heart!  Indeed . . . babies are very likely becoming a thing of the past for our little family.  It makes me so sad.  I can't even bring myself to speak of it in certain terms.

No more babies?  Never to birth again??  Never to hold my own newborn close, savoring every little snort and grunt?  Never again?  It hurts, ladies.  It hurts.  And it is probably - I think - pretty much, most likely, the end.  Probably.  I think.

I know we must all go through it to some extent, but it is just. so. sad.