Tomorrow, I am going on another breastfeeding mission with LATCH. I decided to scour our cabinets for anything to give and had time to go through my son's drawers which I didn't have last time. So there I was, unfolding and folding clothes and sorting them in three piles... one for a preggy woman I promised infant layette to (though i've really given most of my son's already), one for my cousin's son who is about a year younger, and one for Ondoy victims. Suddenly, I got really, really sad. See, I was going through my "posterity stash" already as well and parting with really favorite items. So I started texting friends who I know would understand.
It's not that I was having second thoughts about giving those things away. After that boy who died, I could never have second thoughts about giving away stuff anymore. But it really felt like a thousand pin pricks in the heart to be parting with them, because it's also like saying goodbye to those times. To my son's babyhood. The memories just kept crashing down and I ended up crying fat, hot tears over sleeper suits from his crybaby nights, and the pink jumpsuit that he looked great in, and the polos that made him look more like a boy and less of a baby, the slippers I bought instead of getting my own, etc.
I guess in a way, I had it coming. My son just turned two years. I have been a mom for that long (and nine months). I survived. And I can't help but find the fact that my baby is no longer a baby really bittersweet. Of course, I shall mourn.
And it's PMS time.
Like what a friend would often say, cheerful givers are cheerfully rewarded as well. Within an hour of finishing the packing of those things to be given to Ondoy victims, my parents' packages arrived. It's two boxes of goodies for my son and nephew.