As a new mother, I find myself at a unique juncture. Tomorrow, my youngest son will celebrate his second birthday, marking a significant milestone in our family dynamic. My three children are spaced just 20 months apart, which means that with each child reaching the age of two, there was always another baby in the home. For six consecutive years, I experienced pregnancy, breastfeeding, and the challenges of managing newborns, but for the first time, it’s been a full year since I last held a baby bottle or nursed.
Recently, I’ve felt a void, as if something essential is missing from our home. During a trip to Target, I inadvertently wandered into the infant aisle, glancing at pacifiers, swaddle blankets, and breast pumps. Each item stirred a wave of nostalgia, causing a lump to form in my throat. These items no longer hold relevance in my life, yet their presence evokes memories of a time that seems to slip further away.
Just this week, I ventured into my grandmother’s basement to retrieve bins overflowing with baby clothes, now destined for my soon-to-arrive nephew. I paused to touch a soft, hospital-issued onesie, instantly transported back to the time when my own children were that small. As I prepare breakfast for my boys, my youngest rushes by, a blur of fleece pajamas and tousled blond hair. I recognize those pajamas—the familiar navy blue and orange ones, always worn by the toddler I was once used to bringing home from the hospital. I feel an ache in my heart as I long for the newborn who seems to have vanished, yet he is right here with me.
My little boy wraps his arms around my neck, squeezes tightly, and sits beside me, his small hand fitting perfectly in mine. His soft hair still carries the wispy innocence of infancy, and his sleeping face resembles his ultrasound photo from before we met. However, I am continually surprised by how quickly he has developed language and independence. He now fills my lap with his sturdy toddler thighs, helps himself to a cup of water, and brushes his own teeth.
When I glance in the mirror, I’m startled by the reflection of a child who has outgrown the need for constant carrying. It feels almost awkward to gather him in my arms. Those fleeting, monumental moments, which I somehow overlooked with my older boys, now resonate deeply with me. There’s no newborn to overshadow him and make him seem larger; he remains my baby, even as he approaches two—a milestone that feels alarmingly close.
His arrival was unexpected; he came four days earlier than our scheduled C-section, a dramatic entrance marked by amniotic fluid during his brothers’ bedtime routine. From the outset, everything has moved too quickly, barely allowing us time to adjust. I find myself reminiscing about the postpartum ward—the soft hues of turquoise and peach, the long hallways, and the attentive nurses who offered comfort during those early days. The tiny pink infant I cradled in my arms seems like a distant memory.
As my children continue to grow, I can feel the widening gap between their increasing needs and what I am able to provide. Their worlds will expand beyond our home, while I remain fixated on the simplicity of childhood—from the delicate hands of newborns to the everyday challenges of raising little ones. We are all outgrowing one another.
Although I feel anchored by my children, I wonder what will keep me grounded as they grow more independent. Recently, while enjoying a rare afternoon alone in Manhattan, I emerged from the subway and felt disoriented, overwhelmed by the bustling crowd. Without the familiar weight of my children, I felt aimless, like a plastic bag tossed about in the wind. Sometimes, I fear that when they are grown, I may not recognize myself at all.
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Summary
This reflection captures the bittersweet transition from babyhood to toddlerhood as the author navigates the emotional landscape of parenting three children spaced closely together. With the youngest turning two and no longer needing a newborn’s care, she grapples with feelings of nostalgia and identity, pondering the inevitable changes that come with her children’s growth.