As a parent, I often find myself pondering, “Am I the only one who feels this way?” But I quickly reassure myself, “Absolutely not! And even if I were, it wouldn’t matter.” Recently, I’ve begun to wonder why I don’t share the same sentiments as many others around me. Social media is flooded with posts like, “I miss my babies!” or “Time, please slow down!” or “I wish I could go back!” I can’t help but feel a twinge of confusion when I see these sentiments; my immediate thought is, “How far back are we really talking?”
Certainly, I cherish the memories of my kids as infants, but the desire to return to that phase? Not a chance. Would I really want to relive those sleepless nights spent anxiously watching my baby’s chest rise and fall just to ensure she’s breathing? No, thank you! I prefer restful nights. Or revisit the days when my son would cry for no discernible reason, leaving me feeling helpless? No way, I’m not signing up for that again.
I vividly recall a particularly exhausting day when my son was just four months old, and I couldn’t get him to calm down. After enduring hours of the eat-sleep-cry routine, I finally decided to take him to the pediatric after-hours clinic. With my three-year-old in tow, I had a plan. My mother, ever generous, had left a crisp one-hundred-dollar bill on my nightstand during her visit. Given my frazzled state, I was ready to hand it over to anyone in line ahead of me, just to get my baby to stop crying. So, do I want to return to that time? Not at all.
I genuinely love that my kids are maturing — is that so wrong? I adore watching them grow into their own unique individuals. The questions they ask and the opinions they form bring me joy, even if they don’t always align with mine. It’s wonderful that my son can articulate when the medicine burns or when he feels nauseous. I appreciate how my daughter can aim perfectly into the toilet when she throws up. Their ability to communicate with doctors about their health is a blessing. Plus, karaoke night is way more entertaining now!
I’m truly excited for my daughter’s upcoming third-grade year. When my son started pre-K, I wasn’t sad at all; his enthusiasm was contagious! I see their excitement for the adventures ahead, and I can’t help but want to join them on this journey. Watching them grow, flourish, and reach new milestones is not something I find heart-wrenching.
Ultimately, it’s their journey, not mine. I am reminded of a quote I stumbled upon: “To raise a child who feels confident enough to venture out on their own means you’ve succeeded in your role.” They aren’t mine to keep; my job is to guide them as they learn to soar. I also came across a thought from Elizabeth Taylor that resonates: “I’ve never regarded my jewelry as mere trophies. I’m here to care for them, for we are only temporary custodians of beauty.”
While the idea of my kids leaving for college does bring a pang of sadness, I wouldn’t dream of stifling their wanderlust. Each night, as I tuck them in and listen for their breath, I can’t help but hold them close, even if it’s just for a moment longer. I am their temporary guardian, charged with nurturing them until they’re ready to shine independently. They are two of the most precious jewels in my life—brilliant, rare, and temporarily mine to care for.
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In summary, there’s nothing wrong with celebrating my children’s growth. I embrace their journey and cherish the moments we share, knowing that my role is to prepare them for their own adventures ahead.