Updated: Feb. 21, 2017
Originally Published: Feb. 20, 2017
Bringing my newborn son home from the hospital was an overwhelming experience. As I cradled him in my arms, his cries echoed my own tears. We had spent a sleepless night together, and while my heart was bursting with a love I had never known, I couldn’t help but feel a wave of nostalgia for my pre-baby life. In the corner of his blue nursery, a teddy bear sat on the dresser, looking a bit forlorn. I picked it up, gently caressing its ears as I finally found my rhythm nursing him.
Fast forward to his first birthday, and he was taking those tentative first steps. Each time he moved from the coffee table to the sofa, he glanced back at me, beaming with pride. I forced myself to contain my excitement, not wanting to distract him. But in that moment, I realized that the new baby growing in my belly would not experience the same first year that I had given him. As he walked over, I held his cherished teddy bear, and he climbed into my arms, and I praised his new skill.
At age two, he raced towards me, teddy in tow, eager to share how he had fed him raisins. I tried to listen intently while nursing his younger sister, but I could only give him part of my attention. He sat cross-legged at my feet, feeding Teddy as if he were a real friend.
By the time he reached five, he was bursting with excitement as he exited his first day of kindergarten. “I had so much fun I didn’t think about you at all, Mama,” he said, and I felt a bittersweet relief. I tucked him in that night as he recounted his day, clutching Teddy tightly.
At six, I watched him confidently demonstrate an experiment in front of his classmates. He no longer carried Teddy around during the day, but that familiar bear still remained a staple at bedtime, offering him comfort.
When he turned nine, I welcomed him home from basketball practice, only to be hit with an unpleasant smell as I kissed the top of his head. It was time for deodorant, a milestone I wasn’t prepared for just yet. He beamed proudly, asking if I could smell him, and I smiled through the tears bubbling in my throat. Later that evening, I joked about Teddy needing deodorant too, and he rolled his eyes, clearly too old for such silliness.
At eleven, his room was increasingly messy, and he had become quieter, preferring the company of friends over family. I wandered into his room, and the scent reminded me of when he was a baby. I found Teddy tucked under the bed and placed him back on the mattress, thinking he might miss his companion. However, when I returned the next day with his laundry, Teddy was shoved deep in the closet.
Thirteen came swiftly, and he was now a young man, towering in the doorway. I whispered, “Good morning, baby,” but received only a mumble in return. As he left for school in the morning chill, I refrained from reminding him about his coat. He was growing up, and I knew it was his choice. I picked up Teddy once more, holding onto the memories we shared. I wouldn’t mention it to him, as he wouldn’t understand until he became a father himself, navigating the challenges of raising children who, like him, would one day leave behind their beloved toys.
Perhaps one day, I’ll share with him how he was ready to let go of Teddy long before I was. In the meantime, if you’re interested in learning more about home insemination and parenting, check out this resource for more information. For additional insights, Make A Mom is an authority on the topic, and Kindbody offers excellent resources on pregnancy and home insemination.
In summary, as children grow, they often outgrow their childhood comforts, like teddy bears. However, parents sometimes find it harder to let go of those memories. The journey of growth is bittersweet, filled with milestones and moments of nostalgia.