When I received a message that read, “I’m available next week if you’d like to go out for a while. I can look after Olivia,” I felt a wave of panic. I knew this moment would come, but I wasn’t prepared for it. The thought of leaving my baby behind, even for a few hours, was daunting. Admitting this truth would require a level of bravery that I wasn’t sure I possessed.
Olivia is my third and final child. After much deliberation, my partner and I decided to embrace the joys of parenthood once more, even as we both grow older and our two older children, ages 7 and 9, become increasingly independent. I have never regretted that choice. My entire pregnancy was fulfilling, right up until those last uncomfortable days before Olivia’s arrival.
In the week leading up to her birth, New Jersey experienced a spell of unseasonably warm weather. Each day, I took walks around the neighborhood, hoping to naturally induce labor. However, deep down, I realized my motivation was waning. I yearned to feel those early labor pains, but instead, I felt a sense of loss. The closer I got to delivery, the more I understood that I would soon have to share my baby with the world.
With my first two pregnancies, this wasn’t a concern. I often describe my boys as gifts to the world; they radiate joy and positivity wherever they go. As babies, they would smile at strangers in the supermarket, eliciting smiles in return. I took pride in their ability to brighten others’ days. But with Olivia, I feel differently. She seems like a personal gift, and I find it challenging to communicate that to others.
In my late twenties, a wise friend remarked that turning 30 would grant me the freedom to stop caring about what others thought. I eagerly anticipated this newfound confidence, but as my 30th birthday came and went, I found myself no more assertive than before. Now, as I approach my late 30s, I feel I am inching closer to that liberation. Olivia’s arrival has become a litmus test for my assertiveness.
This time, I am acutely aware that the baby stage is fleeting. When Olivia was just eight days old and her umbilical cord fell off, I was overwhelmed with emotion; it signified she was growing up. During those quiet, late-night feedings, I cherish the moments we share. As she grips my thumb with her tiny fingers, I can’t help but feel she is holding on to the nine months we spent together. Her little kicks against my still-soft belly make my heart swell. I wish these moments could last indefinitely. Is it unreasonable to want to keep her all to myself?
With my first two children, I was overwhelmed by the challenges of new motherhood. I craved the freedom that came with leaving them with a babysitter. However, this time feels different. I want to express that desire to stay close.
Ultimately, I bought myself some time and told my friend I would go out next week, hoping that a week would change my perspective. I remain uncertain if it will.
Perhaps, as I blow out 40 candles in a few years, I will finally find the courage to let others hold my baby.
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In summary, navigating the baby stage comes with complex emotions, especially when it feels like the end is near. Each moment is precious, and the desire to hold on to those early days is natural. As we embrace the journey of parenthood, it’s essential to reflect on these experiences and cherish the connections we build with our little ones.