Wednesday, December 7, 2011

Babies Don't Keep


My post from yesterday is still lingering in my head a bit.  I guess I've been in a nostalgic mood, because I've been flipping through old photos of the girls and Lucas.  In fact, just today, I was sitting on the floor with Lucas playing with some blocks and cars.  He looked up at a framed black and white photo of me sitting in a chair with my big, pregnant belly exposed and Hannah and Leah leaning down giving it hugs and kisses.  Lucas pointed to the picture and said, "Mommy!" I nodded and said, "Who was in my tummy?"  He grinned, but didn't say anything.  So I gently poked his little tummy and said, "YOU were in my tummy!"

Then it hit me. It was three years ago this past Thanksgiving that I found out I was pregnant for the second time. My mom was so exited when I told her.  I remember the giddiness in her voice as she exclaimed how thrilled she was.  Has it been three years since I started watching my waistline expand? Three years since I felt those sweet baby kicks from the inside out?  Wasn't I just looking into my sweet baby boy's eyes in the hospital marveling at how small and precious he was?

I recently read a poem on another blog (www.wishingforpineneedles.typepad.com).  And I think it fits so appropriately with these sentiments of time passing so quickly, like the blink of an eye.  Especially when it comes to those precious newborn and baby years.  Like the poem suggests, babies just don't keep.


Babies Don't Keep

Mother, O' Mother, come shake out your cloth,
Empty the dustpan, poison the moth.
Hang out the washing, make up the bed,
Sew on a button and butter the bread.

Where is the mother whose house is so shocking?
She's up in the nursery, blissfully rocking.

Oh, I've grown as shiftless as Little Boy Blue,
Lullaby, rockaby, lullaby loo.
Dishes are waiting and bills are past due,
Pat-a-cake, darling, and peek - peekaboo.

The shopping's not done and there's nothing for stew,
And out in the yard there's a hullabaloo.
But I'm playing Kanga and this is my Roo.
Look! Aren't his eyes the most wonderful hue?
Lullaby, rockaby, lullaby loo.

The cleaning and scrubbing can wait till tomorrow,
But children grow up, as I've learned to my sorrow.
So quiet down cobwebs; Dust go to sleep!
I'm rocking my baby and babies don't keep.

~ Ruth Hulbert Hamilton

5 comments:

Maria Rose said...

I too have been surprised to find that my baby girl has somehow disappeared too. Lately she has been saying,"I'm growing up mommy." She is.

Susan said...

Yes, my baby girl has her own baby girl! That happens in a heartbeat.

Victoria said...

Lovely poem. Even though my boy is very gown up I remember those sweet days like they were yesterday, precious.

Rachel said...

what a wonderful poem!!

Mocha Mama 24 said...

Thanks for sharing this Emily. I've been so determined with our latest arrival to appreciate every minute with him and not complain about the "work" and lack of sleep I'm dealing with. They do grow so quickly and you never get the days back again.