Parenting
By Jamie Taylor
Updated: August 3, 2016
Originally Published: September 17, 2015
I’m yearning for a baby.
Not a third child—and definitely not yours (nice try, but no thanks).
What I really crave is to hold my own baby again. Whether it’s a boy or a girl doesn’t matter; I might even want both—just not at the same time, please!
Lately, I’ve been experiencing an embarrassing midlife “situation” where my heart is absolutely overflowing with love for babies. Seriously, it’s like I’m a toddler magnet. My Facebook and Instagram feeds are practically bursting with adorable infants—some are just born, others are taking their first steps, and a few are celebrating their very first birthdays. Those chubby thighs, tiny fingers, and wispy hair are simply irresistible. I especially swoon over the bright blue-eyed little ones since both of my own kids share that trait, even as they’re now teenagers!
These babies popping up in my social media feed are like clean slates, asking for nothing more than love, cuddles, and a little nourishment. What could be more uplifting than a brand-new baby? They symbolize fresh beginnings and remind us that life keeps moving forward. Babies don’t hold grudges or roll their eyes at you; they just want to be loved. They require a lot of care, but the joy they return is unmatched. It’s that pure, unfiltered love that you can only get from a little one who doesn’t have a curfew or a laundry list of chores.
I find myself desperately trying to rewind time, reaching back for those sweet days with babies. I long to recall how it felt to snuggle a sleepy baby right against my neck in the early morning while everyone else was still asleep. I want to remember the sheer panic of bathing my first little one, terrified he might slip from my grasp. I want to relive the moments when I heard, “It’s a boy!” and “It’s a girl!” both times feeling an inexplicable connection to them even before they arrived. I miss seeing them dance, sing, and play pretend, completely free of self-consciousness.
But alas, memory can be a fickle friend.
People often told me during those long afternoons at the grocery store or while endlessly pushing swings that I was “making memories.” Now, I probably say that to my younger friends who are just embarking on their parenting journeys. They feel like their days stretch on forever, but they’ll soon realize how quickly it all flies by.
Ah, memories! “You’ll have so many to cherish!” people cheerfully exclaim. But as time passes, those memories aren’t always clear-cut. Some are jagged or bittersweet, and many just don’t line up with how my kids remember them (surprise!). Yet, there are shining moments that stand out, so vivid that I can replay them in my mind whenever I wish.
Yet, the mundane routines—the bath times, bedtimes, countless readings of “Hop on Pop” and “Brown Bear, Brown Bear,” and all those boxes of mac and cheese—have started to blend together. The “firsts” and “lasts” of each child, from tentative first steps to losing that first tooth, are all part of a fog I can’t quite see through yet.
Going through boxes of old photos (yes, my kids grew up before the digital age) reminds me it all happened—there were camping trips, birthday parties, sleepovers, and beloved pets. I didn’t keep a blog or journal back then, just videos and snapshots, so I have a treasure trove of memories stored away.
But that blurry recollection of the last 21 years is a bit unsettling. I honestly thought I’d remember more clearly. Sometimes, I fret that I might be losing those memories, one faded snapshot at a time.
Just give me that baby again—my baby, either one of them! If only I could relive just one day with my little girl on one hip or my little boy laughing until he gasped for air. I swear, I’d cherish it all—I really would. I just want to hit rewind one more time.
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In summary, as I navigate this baby fever, I find myself reminiscing about the sweet moments of early motherhood. The longing for those innocent days reminds me of the joy and love that babies bring, and it makes me wish I could experience it all over again.