http://www.bakersfieldvoice.com/home/Blog/heatherijames/28525 Oh, nostalgia.&nbsp; It came for a visit today when all I wanted to do was to put the laundry away.&nbsp; The baby is almost four months old and it was time to move through the newborn clothes to the next size up.&nbsp; I had a box ready to put the old away in, to get it ready to be sold at the next baby items consignment sale.&nbsp; I didn't realize it would be so hard.&nbsp; It wasn't just Aidan's clothes.&nbsp; It was a combination of both all the new items I had bought for him and the best of the best of his older brother's outfits from almost four years earlier.&nbsp; When I put&nbsp;my older son's clothes&nbsp;in a box four years ago, I knew I was safekeeping them, storing them for the next bundle of boy that I innately knew would eventually bless my little life.&nbsp; But, this time, it was different.&nbsp; There aren't going to be any more babies in this house, and I am likely to never see these tiny onesies and rompers again.&nbsp; They are getting boxed up&nbsp;to depart forever and I was torn.&nbsp; Each piece has a memory.&nbsp; I can't, for the life of me, recall what exact memory goes with each piece.&nbsp; I simply have this fuzzy little notion that goodness, joy, and love are somehow interwoven in each outfit.&nbsp; Like the blue sleeping gown that both of my sons wore.&nbsp; It looked so good against their blue eyes, those extra-long lashes, I just couldn't put it in the box.&nbsp; Nothing special happened when they wore this gown, but I had to keep it.&nbsp; I knew there was something about it. Maybe it was on their little bodies when I fell in love with them.&nbsp; Maybe they wore it when I whispered in their ears for the first time that I'd die for them.&nbsp; Maybe I spent twenty minutes trying to spot treat either poop or throw-up on it in the middle of one night, realizing for the first time that all my labor is well worth it.&nbsp; I don't know which one of these things it might have been.&nbsp; May have been all of them.&nbsp; Maybe none of them.&nbsp; But I plan on keeping that gown.&nbsp; It is a symbol of love only a parent knows, a piece of time that will remain precious even when I am old and alone.&nbsp; And now, the gown has a new meaning.&nbsp; Not of the perfect and small bodies that once were clothed in it, but of the realization that being a parent comes with a price.&nbsp; That at some point in time, whether we like it or not, we have to say goodbye.&nbsp; Not to everything, but most of it.&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; Oh, nostalgia.&nbsp; It came for a visit today when all I wanted to do was to put the laundry away.&nbsp; The baby is almost four months old and it was time to move through the newborn clothes to the next size up.&nbsp; I had a box ready to put the old away in, to get it ready to be sold at the next baby items consignment sale.&nbsp; I didn't realize it would be so hard.&nbsp; It wasn't just Aidan's clothes.&nbsp; It was a combination of both all the new items I had bought for him and the best of the best of his older brother's outfits from almost four years earlier.&nbsp; When I put&nbsp;my older son's clothes&nbsp;in a box four years ago, I knew I was safekeeping them, storing them for the next bundle of boy that I innately knew would eventually bless my little life.&nbsp; But, this time, it was different.&nbsp; There aren't going to be any more babies in this house, and I am likely to never see these tiny onesies and rompers again.&nbsp; They are getting boxed up&nbsp;to depart forever and I was torn.&nbsp; Each piece has a memory.&nbsp; I can't, for the life of me, recall what exact memory goes with each piece.&nbsp; I simply have this fuzzy little notion that goodness, joy, and love are somehow interwoven in each outfit.&nbsp; Like the blue sleeping gown that both of my sons wore.&nbsp; It looked so good against their blue eyes, those extra-long lashes, I just couldn't put it in the box.&nbsp; Nothing special happened when they wore this gown, but I had to keep it.&nbsp; I knew there was something about it. Maybe it was on their little bodies when I fell in love with them.&nbsp; Maybe they wore it when I whispered in their ears for the first time that I'd die for them.&nbsp; Maybe I spent twenty minutes trying to spot treat either poop or throw-up on it in the middle of one night, realizing for the first time that all my labor is well worth it.&nbsp; I don't know which one of these things it might have been.&nbsp; May have been all of them.&nbsp; Maybe none of them.&nbsp; But I plan on keeping that gown.&nbsp; It is a symbol of love only a parent knows, a piece of time that will remain precious even when I am old and alone.&nbsp; And now, the gown has a new meaning.&nbsp; Not of the perfect and small bodies that once were clothed in it, but of the realization that being a parent comes with a price.&nbsp; That at some point in time, whether we like it or not, we have to say goodbye.&nbsp; Not to everything, but most of it.&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; en-us Mon, 16 Jun 2008 16:39:41 PDT <p>Great way to begin my day.... crying!&nbsp; Oh, Heather-I, you do have a way with words and emotions.&nbsp; At one point, you say &quot;It is a symbol of love only a parent knows,&quot; but I beg to differ: I think God gave that exclusively to mommies.&nbsp; Thank you for writing this and getting my emotions rolling so early in the day.&nbsp; I love it.</p> http://www.bakersfieldvoice.com/home/Blog/heatherijames/28525/#c_258099 http://www.bakersfieldvoice.com/home/Blog/heatherijames/28525/#c_258099 <p>Great way to begin my day.... crying!&nbsp; Oh, Heather-I, you do have a way with words and emotions.&nbsp; At one point, you say &quot;It is a symbol of love only a parent knows,&quot; but I beg to differ: I think God gave that exclusively to mommies.&nbsp; Thank you for writing this and getting my emotions rolling so early in the day.&nbsp; I love it.</p>