Updated: April 29, 2021
Originally Published: February 18, 2016
At eight months pregnant, the discomfort is palpable. I find it challenging to lie on my side, and resting on my stomach is impossible, akin to balancing on a bowling ball. Sleepless nights are spent dreaming about the color of your hair and whether your smile will mirror mine. The acid in my chest creates a burning sensation, while your gentle movements both startle and soothe me. It’s alright, little one; you can take your time.
As you arrive, I find myself nursing you every two hours, day and night. You cry, and I struggle with the nipple shield, your latch imperfect as I navigate the learning curve of being a first-time mother. At 3 a.m., tears flow from both of us, overwhelmed by the challenge of this new dance of mother and child. You finally settle in my arms, your tummy full, gifting me sleepy smiles as I watch you and inhale your scent, wiping my own tears away. You are all mine. Sweet child, you can take your time.
As you grow, I watch you wobble, crawl, and throw books from the shelf. Green purees slide down your chin, and your expressions of disgust are priceless when I see the mess on the high chair and myself. I chase you, making sure your curious hands don’t grab anything dangerous—electrical cords, dog food, my coffee. Every waking moment is devoted to you. Even as you sleep, I sneak in to check on you, ensuring you’re warm and safe because, despite the exhaustion, it only takes an hour after your bedtime for me to miss you. You can take your time, my sweet baby.
Navigating the challenges of discipline, we both shed tears as we learn to understand each other’s wills. We enjoy park swings, make-believe games, and reading your favorite books, with my voice often lost in the repetition. Our time together is rich and vibrant, filled with your endless energy. It’s okay, little one; you can take my time.
As we face regressions, growing pains, and the challenges of potty training, I find solace lying next to you, waiting for your little heart and mind to settle. I lose myself in the moment, watching your perfect lips part as you sleep, your eyes closed, emitting soft sighs. Once my tiny boy, you are now growing into something more. Please, stay little. You can take my time.
With backpacks and preschool on the horizon, we engage in imaginative play, where I become the voice of the rhino and you the lion. Each night, I lay out your clothes and prepare your PB&J just the way you like it. Holding your hand as we walk, I cherish discovering more about your blossoming personality. My sweet boy, you will always be my baby, and you can take my time.
Soon enough, you will embark on tee-ball games and homework, face first crushes, puberty, and junior high. I’ll remind you to put on deodorant, call me, and wake up for school. You may grow “too cool” to kiss me, but I will be here, teaching you to drive and helping you apply to colleges. Even when the time comes for a temporary goodbye, please, my dear boy, continue to take my time.
Summary:
This reflective piece captures the emotional journey of motherhood, illustrating the challenges and joys of parenting from pregnancy through early childhood. It emphasizes the importance of cherishing these fleeting moments, encouraging parents to embrace the growth and changes of their children while maintaining a connection that allows for patience and understanding. For more insights on pregnancy and home insemination, check out this excellent resource. To enhance your journey, consider exploring fertility supplements from this authority on the subject. Additionally, you can find more information about home insemination on our blog.