Robbed

I made the mistake of scrolling all the way back to Ellis’ newborn photos in my camera roll last night. At first it was just an innocent trip down memory lane…and then all of sudden it was 30 minutes later and I’m sobbing on my husband’s lap trying to explain all these emotions I was feeling.

I’m still at a loss for words as to what exactly got stirred up inside of me. All I was able to really say to Nate in response to his question about why I was crying, is something along the lines of… “It’s just so weird because I’ve been with him ALL day EVERY day!”

And it’s true. I didn’t miss anything. I’ve been there for nearly every single detail. All the firsts! Every boring, silly, irrational, beautiful, miraculous, frustrating moment. It was sweet watching little clips back recognizing little mannerisms or facial expressions that he still makes till this day. Or reliving some of the, what seemed at the time, mundane post-feed “conversations” between the two of us that happened thousands and thousands of times those first two years of his life. We have spent hundreds of hours just staring into each others eyes. I’ve probably spent an equivalent of a full year just holding and snuggling him. Maybe more.

Upon entering motherhood I think I had a lot of unspoken expectations or rules for myself… or at least specific things I didn’t want to feel or bring upon my child, or miss out on in general. I wanted to be home with him. I wanted him to soak up all of my time. I wanted him to rely on me because I wanted to prove to him that I can be there for him for anything – that I was present.

So why was looking back on my tiny baby bringing up all these sad feelings as if I had missed out on something big and wonderful? Could I have forgotten the beauty of those long days just holding and consoling him? Did my brain seem to mischaracterize some of my complaints as bad feelings? Did I not savor enough of the little moments?

I feel like that’s   A L L   I was trying to focus on. Savoring.

Yet now that I’m looking back on this little baby just a few months old, I can’t help but feel like I’ve been robbed.

But maybe that’s just the awful truth about time. It’s fleeting. New memories start taking over old ones and before you know it, years have passed and you’re realizing that even though you may spend all your time and energy pouring yourself into loving and caring for these little ones – nothing is going to change the fact that they grow up and get bigger and more independent and start falling more in love with the amazing world around them.

And it’s not that they won’t need you anymore. They will. They always will. I know that.

But the innocence starts thinning. You’re not the only influence on them anymore, and I think that’s what gets to be so challenging, is watching their wings start to spread and not really having a clue as to what’s going to lift them up or make them fall. The early years were so predictable.

But that’s also the wonderful thing about being a mom. Is making sure you’re doing everything in your power to help prepare them for that seemingly beautiful world out there. Because we know the harsher reality of it, and I just hope and pray that the way I’m choosing to spend my time right now is creating the reflex in him to turn back to me on the really hard days. Because I’m here. I’m present. And he knows that. He’ll always need me.