Before They’re Gone
Megan Breedlove 
Raising young children is hard. It’s hard. I know this. As proof, I could tell you about all the things I’ve sacrificed and all the times I’ve wanted to scream in frustration or sob in discouragement.
But I won’t tell you, because you already know. You understand.
After all, what’s so special about holding our child’s hand to cross the parking lot or smoothing his hair back from his way-too-hot forehead?
Everything.
Because moments like these won’t be around forever. Children grow, and as they enter each new stage, they leave behind some of the exquisite moments of the previous one. What once seemed ordinary and commonplace is now gone, and somehow, in the going, it becomes precious. And we realize we would give anything to experience many of the moments we thought nothing of while we they were happening.
The following prose poem puts this into words in a way that’s achingly perfect. I didn’t write it, but there’s no way I could improve upon it.
So get a box of tissues and then read the poem. Let it soak in. I’ll be back at the end to offer a prayer for you and me.
The Last Time
From the moment you hold your baby in your arms,
you will never be the same.
You might long for the person you were before,
When you had freedom and time,
And nothing in particular to worry about.
You will know tiredness like you never knew it before,
And days will run into days that are exactly the same,
Full of feeding and burping,
Whining and fighting,
Naps, or lack of naps. It might seem like a never-ending cycle.
But don’t forget…
There is a last time for everything.
There will come a time when you will feed your baby
for the very last time.
They will fall asleep on you after a long day
And it will be the last time you ever hold your sleeping child.
One day you will carry them on your hip,
then set them down,
And never pick them up that way again.
You will scrub their hair in the bath one night
And from that day on they will want to bathe alone.
They will hold your hand to cross the road,
Then never reach for it again.
They will creep into your room at midnight for cuddles,
And it will be the last night you ever wake for this.
One afternoon you will sing ‘the wheels on the bus’
and do all the actions,
Then you’ll never sing that song again.
They will kiss you goodbye at the school gate,
the next day they will ask to walk to the gate alone.
You will read a final bedtime story and wipe your
last dirty face.
They will one day run to you with arms raised,
for the very last time.
The thing is, you won’t even know it’s the last time
until there are no more times, and even then,
it will take you a while to realize.
So while you are living in these times,
remember there are only so many of them and
when they are gone,
you will yearn for just one more day of them
For one last time.
~~Author unknown~~
Oh, Father God, help us appreciate the indescribable beauty of holding our child’s hand, tucking him in, or brushing her hair, while we still have these opportunities. May we never take these moments for granted. In Jesus’ name we pray. Amen.
Boys are different from girls.
Several times a week, I come across links in my Facebook feed to articles that either 1) try to alarm you, or 2) try to stir up your emotions (whether positive or negative). I guess that’s good, in a way. If something alarming is going on out there, I want to know about it. And I do sometimes enjoy feel-good stories. The problem is that often, these articles aren’t true.