As I embrace this new chapter of motherhood, I find myself reflecting on a significant milestone: my youngest son is about to celebrate his second birthday. My three boys are spaced just 20 months apart, and throughout the past six years, every time one reached the age of two, another baby was already in the house. The past years have been filled with continuous pregnancies, breastfeeding, and caring for newborns, leaving little room for a break. However, it has now been a full year since I last held a baby bottle or nursed, and I can’t shake the feeling that something is missing.
Recently, I found myself wandering through the baby aisle at Target, instinctively avoiding the pacifiers and swaddle blankets. Yet, I couldn’t help but feel a lump in my throat at the sight of these items, which now seem so unnecessary in my life. Earlier this week, I ventured into my grandmother’s basement to retrieve containers overflowing with baby clothes—soon to be hand-me-downs for my soon-to-arrive nephew. As I touched a soft cotton onesie, I was immediately transported back in time, recalling how tiny my boys once were.
In the midst of preparing breakfast for my older children, my youngest zooms past me, a blur of fleece pajamas and tousled blond hair. I recognize those pajamas—size 2T, the ones that always fit the toddler eagerly waiting for the arrival of his baby brother. As I watch him play, my heart aches for the newborn I never realized I would miss so deeply.
Yet, he is not a baby anymore. My little one wraps his arms around my neck, showing affection in ways I had overlooked. He sits beside me, plump hand in mine, his hair still soft and wispy. When he sleeps, his face resembles the grainy ultrasound image from when we first anticipated his arrival. But now, his vocabulary surprises me, and his toddler legs fill my lap. He gets his own cup of water and brushes his teeth independently.
As I glance in the mirror, I am taken aback by the reflection of a child who is no longer small enough to carry. It’s almost awkward to hold him close now. Moments that passed unnoticed during my first two experiences of motherhood now feel significant and epic. With no new baby demanding my attention, my youngest remains my baby, but the reality is that he will turn two tomorrow—too soon.
His entry into the world was unexpected, arriving four days before the scheduled C-section—a dramatic moment that marked the beginning of a whirlwind journey through motherhood that has often felt rushed. I find myself longing for the familiar comfort of the hospital postpartum ward, with its soothing colors, nourishing meals, and caring nurses. The sight of my tiny newborn, swaddled in a bassinet or cradled in my arms, is a memory I cherish deeply.
As time moves on, I feel the inevitable approach of two years old. The months leading to this milestone seem to have passed too quickly, and I recognize that my children’s needs are evolving beyond what I can provide. Their world will expand, leaving me to grapple with the changes in our dynamic. I often feel tethered to my children, but I also sense a gradual loosening of those ties.
Just recently, while enjoying an afternoon alone in Manhattan, I felt disoriented without the weight of my children beside me. I was tossed around by the crowd, feeling like a plastic bag caught in the wind—unmoored and uncertain. Sometimes, I worry that when my children are grown, I won’t recognize myself at all.
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In summary, motherhood is a profound and evolving journey. As my youngest approaches the milestone of two years, I am reminded of the fleeting nature of time and the importance of cherishing each moment, even as I prepare for the inevitable changes ahead.