Steps

September 3, 2009 at 2:55 pm | Posted in Baby Weight (Evan), I's for reals, Love and all that other mushy stuff, Me myself I and me again, Putting on Baby Weight (Pregnancy), Rewind | Leave a comment
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Our home was built in the 1970s.  Due to this fact, we have a “mirror corner”.  It covers the corner of our living room from floor to ceiling.  You can kinda see it in this photo in the upper left corner:

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 You can watch yourself in this mirror as you go down the stairs from the bedrooms.

I remember walking (ok, waddling) down those stairs about a year ago with my big pregnant belly.  I’d catch myself in the mirror and unconsciously place a hand on my tummy. 

Then a short time later, Evan was born.  Wayne and I would so very carefully tip toe down the stairs.  We would clutch the hand rail in one hand and hold not-even 5 pound Evan in the other.  We would place ourselves in the exact middle of the staircase… careful not to accidentally bump his head into a wall on the way down.  We’d search the area for our little dogs, not wanting to trip on them and hurt the baby.  I remember pausing on the steps.  I remember seeing a small fold of blankets in my arms as a gingerly inched down the stairs after my c-section.  He was so tiny.  You could scarcely see his face poking out of the swaddling blanket.

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Soon after I was walking confidently down those stairs as I watched how natural it looked for me to be cradling an infant in my arms.  I didn’t need a handrail.  Even the dogs knew to run down the stairs if I shouted, “GO!” 

Months would pass I would see myself walking down those steps as I had Evan on my hip, tickling his side while we bounced down the stairs.

And again as I clutched a heavy sleepy Evan against my chest with his arms around my neck.

I pause on the steps and look into that mirror and realize that in a year Evan will be crawling up and down those steps on his own.  I can see myself waiting and watching at the top of the steps as he slowly makes his way down. 

I know in the future I will see Evan running up those steps to his room to go play.  I can see him running up those steps to slam himself into his room because he’s mad at me.  I can see him rubbing his eyes as he stumbles down the steps in the morning for breakfast.  I can see him missing a step one day and me kissing his boo-boo as he cries.

It’s not easy to swallow the fact that this baby is going to be a kid one day.  A kid that can walk and run and talk back to me.  It’s hard to imagine that one day I won’t have to carry him down those steps.  One day he won’t want me to carry him down those steps.

One day I won’t be able to carry him down those steps.

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