Updated: May 26, 2020
Originally Published: Sep. 30, 2015
The arrival of my first son marked a transformative period in my life, as I welcomed him during my 19th year. At that time, I possessed little in terms of material possessions, and my desires were not for things but for experiences and deep emotional connections. My foremost goal was to heal from the emotional scars of my youth, striving to avoid passing those wounds onto my child. While I inevitably carried some of my past into parenthood, the therapy sessions, reading, and journaling I engaged in helped to create a nurturing environment for him, filled with love and emotional stability.
As a new mother, I would venture out with just the essentials—diapers, wipes, and perhaps a change of clothes tucked into my purse. My mother would chuckle at how times had changed, reminiscing about the days when she needed a whole cart of supplies for a day out. My youth allowed me to escape the pressures of comparison; I had no peers with children to compare myself to. My son enjoyed the luxury of being the only child in social settings, receiving undivided attention. I eschewed strollers, opting instead to carry him in a sling or my arms, and breastfed him, eliminating the need for bottles or formula.
Our weekly rituals included visits to bookstores, trips to parks, explorations of deserts, dirt bike events, and beach outings. By the age of two, he was recognized as one of the happiest and most observant children, often praised for his politeness, maturity, and ability to engage in meaningful conversations. I would simply nod and smile in response to such compliments, while he delighted in solitary play as I wrote.
I worked as a nanny and later as a preschool teacher to ensure we spent our days together. I attended college classes at night when my mother could care for him. For a significant part of those early years, we were inseparable, co-sleeping and sharing countless joyful moments. His toys were few, his wardrobe modest, with most items being hand-me-downs. Our special tradition was Friday Night Family Night, where we’d order pizza and rent movies from Blockbuster—a ritual we still cherish. Our bond was profound; he explored nature, enjoyed thousands of books, and engaged in various creative activities. Our life together was not just sufficient; it was abundant.
Fast-forward to the present, and my youngest child, a spirited four-year-old named Lily, enjoys advantages that my eldest son never had. Born into a loving marriage, she is surrounded by a lively and supportive family, including two stable parents with careers. By my late 30s, I had developed greater emotional stability and self-assurance compared to my experiences during my son’s infancy. I am less anxious now, and my tears are fewer.
Lily has three older siblings to look up to, especially her adoring older sister. Her toy collection is vast and diverse, including magnets, building blocks, dolls, musical instruments, and many more. However, one thing she lacks is the intimate, focused attention that my first son enjoyed during his formative years. Although she is surrounded by love and has a comfortable life, I find myself struggling to provide her with the undivided, calm attention that she deserves.
Despite any feelings of sadness about this situation, I remain realistic. I know she is loved immensely and feels secure within her large family. I understand that keeping her home from preschool to spend time with me has its benefits. Still, I grapple with the challenge of balancing my responsibilities—working from home, caring for three other children, maintaining a household, and tending to pets.
The challenge lies in not losing sight of the lessons I learned from my early years with my son. In the hustle of daily life, I find myself distracted, often losing focus and spending too much time preoccupied with my thoughts instead of being fully present with Lily. I must remind myself that what she truly needs is not more toys or activities, but rather my presence. She craves walks without a rush to return home, playtime free from distractions, and moments spent creating art together in a calm atmosphere. Eye contact, a soothing voice, and a genuine sense of availability are essential for her emotional well-being.
As I reflect on this journey, I am reminded of the importance of being fully present in the moment—one of my guiding principles for life and parenting. It’s a call to leave distractions behind, grab my child, and explore the world together, free from gadgets and interruptions.
In conclusion, the time I dedicate to my children not only enriches their lives but also allows me the space to focus on my own interests and passions.
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