Letting Go . . .

I'm a pretty sentimental person. I think that is one reason I decided to start a blog in the first place. I'd always been a devoted journal keeper, and blogging seemed the next natural step in preserving memories of my life and family. I put photos into albums {no scrapbooking here - too expensive} and I keep a box of mementos for each of my kids, but am pretty selective about what goes in the box -a cherished blankie, an award given at school, a note or letter that may some day bring comfort or a wave of needed love. So I guess I would call myself somewhat sentimental.

But when we found out that this Grand Finale Baby was a boy, I immediately detached myself from a huge chunk of my sentimentality and brutally attacked the six - yes, SIX - bins of girl's clothing I'd been carefully saving up for nine years in hopes of another pink and frilly child.

For nine straight years, at the end of each season, when Hannie B outgrew her clothes I'd go through the lot of it picking and choosing the cutest items left in the best shape, carefully folding and placing in bins. From tiny newborn dresses and bloomers to corduroy pants and t-shirts she just wore a year ago, I had it all, catalogued by size and season.

And now it is almost entirely gone.

In the past two months it's been given to friends and families in my church congregation who will get great use out of all those darling duds. I've seen a few little girls at church already, wearing sweet Sunday dresses from our past and though I feel a pang in my heart, I also feel a huge smile on my face. Hannie usually notices too and whispers in my ear, "Mom, remember when I used to wear that same dress?"

I've kept only a few very special pieces - like this hand embroidered/smocked top that her daddy brought her from one of his trips to India. I couldn't bear to part with it. Look at that beautiful detailing! Maybe someday Hannie will have a daughter who will wear it. Maybe it will just sit in a box for years.

Are you wondering why I'm writing about this?

Maybe it's my way of acknowledging that I've come to accept the finality of this last baby - that my baby days will end with Numero Four and I'm feeling a little sentimental about it, hoping I can hold on to each moment, putting them carefully into my mental memory box.

Maybe it's my way of saying that passing on all of those girly memories was a tough thing to do because deep down, I'd always hoped there'd be a sister for my little girl.

Maybe it's just me saying, "Hey there! Nesting {and purging} in full progress over here! Look at me making space on my shelves in the storage room."

I don't know.

This much I do know . . . Letting go is hard. And having a baby means letting go of a lot of things - control {major issues with that here}, life as we know it in all of its comforting structured ways, sanity {but only for a while} amongst other things. And while I'm totally ready, I'm also totally terrified. It's for sure that we'll be doing a lot of leaning on the Lord around here in the next few months.

I guess when it comes down to it, letting go means letting it go to Him.