Wasn't that great?

Last night there were boxes covering the living and dining rooms, spilling into the kitchen and the hallway. In these boxes were the pieces of the past two years I cannot yet bear to part with.
 
It has been a chaotic two years -- full of sleepless nights, breast pumps, expensive hypoallergenic formula, bottles, reflux medications and then a repeat performance.
It has been a time of serious adjustment for me. And my husband.
It has been a time of loss of self. And gain of others.
I never imagined the changes I would go through. The sacrifices I would let myself make.
And try as I might, I couldn't imagine the joy I would ultimately feel.

It was all packed up in those boxes -- boppy pillows, moby wraps, stained onesies and smocked newborn Christmas dresses -- not to mention my size 6 jeans --but that is another post yet to come.
I found myself sniffing the baby clothes and recounting the memories of each piece -- "oh I remember her wearing this outfit and I was sitting in the backseat with her on the way home from your sister's house and wondering (& of course, asking on facebook) if she would ever sit in her car seat and not scream. Wasn't that great?"

A few things, I was able to move to the give away pile and feel good that another child might have a warm snowsuit or a cozy set of pj's this winter.

But the others, I put back into their boxes. For memories. Or maybe, just maybe, one day, despite my husband's insistence that a family of four is gracious plenty, maybe.
I am still holding out hope.