I have a baby book for each of my children. Of course, they are all filled out in different degrees of completion, but they all have a book to record the moments of their childhood. Page after page is filled with "firsts." The first time they: sat, rolled over, said "mama", and slept through the night (oh praise be the gods of infant sleeping). It has a place for first steps, first foods and the first day of school. Each with a spot for the date and thoughts about the event. I confess not all of them are filled out even though the tasks have been accomplished. However, each one of them is permanently embedded in my brain. I remember these firsts. For each child.

Last night my teenager came in the room and sat down on the couch beside me. He was all limbs...long legs and arms. Awkward, yet in that stage where he is between a boy and a young man. How is this my baby? As I stared at him I began to think. Obsess, really. When was the last time I picked him up?

I mean, he is now a good inch taller than I am and weighs what a 5'8" male should weigh. There is no more picking him up. But when did I last pick him up? Was he crying? Was he just tired of walking? Did he need just a bit of comfort or snuggling? Was I tired and frustrated that I had to pick him up and didn't cherish the moment? I wish I could remember when it was. I am sure, as it had happened a thousand times before, for whatever reason I had for picking him up eventually passed and I put him down. Never to pick him up again. I had my "Last time that I..." moment and never even knew it. And cannot even recall it now.

When was the last time I sat up in the middle of the night with my tween and rocked him to sleep after a bottle? Did I stay alert and stare into his eyes, memorizing the way he looked in that moment? Did I caress his baby cheek and love how soft and smooth it was? Or was I too tired and rushed the moment praying he would fall asleep quickly? After I rocked him to sleep and placed him in his crib, did any bit of nostalgia hit me? Probably not because I had no idea that would be our last middle of the night date with just the two of us, the rocking chair and soft music.

I thought I would never forget the last time I changed my last diaper of one of my children, but I have. With my daughter being the end of the diaper line in our family, you would think there would have been a parade to celebrate, but there wasn't. I wiped, changed and sent her on her way like I had done with my children thousands (or it feels like millions) of times before. That day she took off her diaper, went into her drawer for "big girl" underwear and we never went back to diapers again. I never knew it would be the last diaper I would change of one of my own children. Another last forgotten.