As I gradually emerge from the challenges of those early parenting years, one thing has become clear: you start to view everything through a lens of nostalgia much sooner than you expect.
Just the other night, my daughter became extremely anxious after watching a scene in a movie. She struggled to sleep, and I found myself awake with her until the early hours, surrounded by soft music and all the lights on. The next morning, I woke up feeling as if a freight train had run over me. My head throbbed, and I felt grumpy as I trudged through the house. It dawned on me just how I had managed to function like this during the newborn stage. How did I ever survive those sleepless nights?
The early years of motherhood are undeniably tough—physically and mentally. Colicky infants, endless feedings, and the challenges of twins make the first year of a baby’s life one of the most demanding experiences I’ve ever faced. I’ve done this three times! Yet here I am, my youngest is only five, and I’ve already started to forget what it was like to survive on minimal sleep. The aching back from pacing the house to soothe him is becoming a vague memory, as is the exhaustion of parenting two young kids on just a couple of hours of sleep.
And you know what? I’m grateful for that fading memory. While I recognize that caring for babies is hard work, I don’t miss the idea of having more children. Instead, I take pride in being a “been there, done that” mom. Yes, the tween and teen years await, but I’ve come to realize that every phase has its challenges. You dig deep, tackle the hard stuff, and ultimately emerge stronger. Then, as those stages pass, you reflect and think, “That wasn’t so bad, was it?”
In just a few years, the moments that once brought tears or worry seem to drift into the background. The tough times fade, leaving behind memories of gummy smiles, the sweet sound of my toddler calling for me after a nap, and the adorableness of their tiny clothes. The diaper blowout fiasco at Target when I ran out of wipes and had no spare clothes for either of us? That’s already becoming a distant thought. Likewise, I’m starting to forget the struggles of teaching my baby to latch or the frustration of potty training.
You even find yourself smiling at the tantrums of the “terrible twos,” and the reality that the “threenager” phase was far worse. When I look back at old videos, I remember fondly the way they mispronounced words or how cute it was when they tried to assert their authority with their tiny stomps.
I can assure you, the chaos of the hand-foot-mouth outbreak or the lice incidents will fade from memory. Instead of fixating on the tough moments, I find myself cherishing the preschool performances and those early soccer games where no one knew which way the ball was supposed to go.
At one point, I worried that I would forget everything about these formative years, and yet here I am, already starting to forget much of it. There are certainly dark times I’m relieved to leave in the past, such as the loneliness, postpartum depression, and the mistakes I made along the way.
As I continue on this parenting journey, those burdens seem to weigh less on my heart. I still grapple with worries and the demands of raising three busy children, questioning if I’m doing enough to shape them into kind, responsible adults. Will I ever feel satisfied with my efforts?
I believe that one day I will. That’s the beauty of forgetting. My past mistakes can be forgiven, and the shadows of challenging days will eventually fade. Someday, when I’m older, I’ll be one of those grandmothers who remembers it was hard but also longs for the beauty and purpose those early years brought. And I hope by then, I can confidently say that I did enough.
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In summary, the toughest parts of parenting may fade from memory, but the joy and lessons learned remain. Parenting evolves, and so do we—each stage brings its own challenges, but ultimately, we grow stronger and more resilient.