Motherhood has always been about new beginnings and new firsts.
The first time we feel the baby move.
The first time a contraction feels like something more than a Braxton Hick.
The firsts continue . . .
The first time we hold our baby.
The first time we fall asleep and wake up, wondering for a tiny second if it was all a dream.
And the scariest first of all . . .
The first time the visitors all go home and the husband returns to work and we realize we’re doing this motherhood thing on our own.
But the firsts become fun too . . .
The baby’s first smile.
The baby’s first step.
The baby’s first tooth.
Then faster than we ever imagined possible, the blessed firsts become blessed reasons for more prayer . . .
The first job.
The first car.
The first date.
But somewhere along this path of motherhood, the firsts turn to lasts.
The last year of high school.
The last high school game.
The last high school concert.
The last time we drive away from campus.
We make it through the senior year with lots of great memories — only to be greeted with more lasts.
The last summer before college.
The last youth group celebration.
The last Sunday morning we go to church all together.
The last family dinner where we sit around the table all together.
The last night our children sleep in their own bed.
The accumulation of all these lasts threaten to smother a mother’s heart, until we realize that motherhood begins with a lot of firsts . . . and leads to a lot of lasts . . . but eventually turns into another series of new firsts.
The first time we shop for dorm stuff.
The first time we meet our child’s dorm-mate.
The first time we watch our kids join a new group of friends in a new place that is all their own.
Yes, the lasts are hard. But they lead to some really awesome firsts. Which is why we do this thing called motherhood for nearly two decades and more — to watch our kids become amazing adults who soar with new wings.
Motherhood and new beginnings are forever intertwined.
What do you remember about your own
Linking with Lisa-Jo, taking five-plus minutes to write about “last.”