The End of An Era

Well, perhaps era isn't the word I'm looking for, but our family is certainly coming to the end of a chapter in our family history. The chapter could well be titled: Our Babies. And sadly, but surely, it is coming to a close. Now I am not the one to miss pregnancy, nor do I ever need to experience another delivery--with or without an anesthetic; however, I have finally felt the urge to shed a tear over experiencing infancy for the last time. The catalyst for this emotional rush is pictured below:



Yep, our cradle. Our beloved little cradle. Shortly after we found out we were expecting Madison, we began looking for the perfect cradle. (We already had a crib. I made Nick buy me one right after we got married--and it was a good thing too because it took almost a year to get it imported from Italy with the big import strike that was going on back then!) We searched and searched for a traditional cradle, but couldn't find exactly what we were looking for. We finally found one that was just the right style, but it was natural wood, and way out of our newly-wed price range. Much too our surprise, however, the Hoskins' bought it and gave it to us as our first baby gift . We were so pleased and grateful. In his spare time, Nick worked hard to refinish it to match our maple bedroom furniture. Then I made baby bedding for it to coordinate with our comforter. Once it was all ready, we packed it away and later moved it from our newly-wed condo in Orem, Utah to our first real home in St. Louis, Missouri. I was seven months pregnant when we first set it up in our bedroom, and I can remember sitting over the cradle many times imagining what it would be like when our precious baby girl finally arrived and would be laid to rest within its little frame. Now, almost six years later, and four children later, it is finally time to pack it up, never to hold another of our babies again. In some ways, it is ironic that packing up our cradle would elicit such an emotional response from me. After all, our babies have each slept in it only a handful of times, spending most of their early months in our bed instead. The cradle, however, symbolizes infancy to me--the rocking, the lullaby's, the baby blankets, and peacefully resting little angels. Packing it up this last time means we are done with that stage of childhood. It's an emotional time, but one filled with hope and excitement for the new phase of life we are entering. It's strange to think, after five and a half years of being immersed in babies, that we are on our way out of the baby business. Strange, and sad. And somewhat of a relief. So, with mixed emotion we say, "Farewell little cradle. See you when the grand babies arrive."