Shades of Grey

As I sort laundry and put things away after our trip, I start pulling down items our youngest has outgrown. As I bag them up for donation there is a bitter sweetness to the act. Part of me is relieved to be pulling down items I have literally been storing for 8-10 years. All of these saved from when my oldest out grew them. There is such a relief in clearing out space. But at the same time there is an ache and pain of the last. The last baby. The last time these items will be worn. Be seen by our eyes. The last memories to be made in them. My heart desires a little girl, all our own, so even if she should one day materialize, these probably wouldn't have been hers. But it stings all the same. 

I can still remember holding tiny clothing items up to my belly, anxiously awaiting the arrival of my first, and the careful sorting of these items as I prepared for my second, third, and fourth. There are just so many memories attached to them. 

I do feel oddly lighter with them set aside for donation. Just as I did when I donated all the baby furniture last year. Part of me is so very ready to move on to the next stage in life. The one where I have deep meaningful conversations with my children as I teach them to read and write. Another part of me cackles at the image of my son with a tinkertoy hanging from his nose because he thought it was funny. And yet another part longs for those quiet moments in the deep of night feeling my child move inside my womb. Those moments of deep anticipation when I count contractions, is this the time? Those still moments holding my sleeping baby and stare into the face of life. A life we created. I suppose it's true then. Life is never truly black and white, but so many beautiful shades of grey that they all become muddled in the end.