Parenting
by Sarah Lawson
Jan. 21, 2023
I find myself at a significant turning point.
Every time I pack away a season’s worth of my daughter’s clothes, I feel the weight of change. My little girl is growing up too fast; she’s already in 2T. I struggle to accept this reality.
The storage closet is brimming with onesies, blankets, and the tiniest hats. As my partner, Jake, hoisted the box labeled 18-24 months onto the top shelf, he casually suggested it might be time to transition our daughter to a toddler bed.
His comment struck a nerve. Clearly, there isn’t enough room for her crib in the storage space. Did he really think we could just part with it? I mean, we’re keeping the crib, right? Just in case?
I always thought I would instinctively know when it was time to stop expanding our family, but now, uncertainty clouds my heart, robbing me of sleep at night.
On one hand, I remind myself that no one ever regrets having a child. The joy a new life brings? It’s undeniable. Yes, we’d be thrilled with another baby. Yet, there’s a practical side to consider, and I must admit that my hands are already full with two little ones.
But then, the fear creeps in. What if I reach a point in my life and suddenly feel a deep yearning for another child? What if that realization comes when it’s too late? That thought is almost enough to make me want to dive right in and just try one more time.
But then, a voice inside me whispers “not yet.” This hesitation leaves me pondering: what if she is my last baby?
As I sort through her new, larger clothes, I feel the swift passage of time. We’ve transitioned from soft cottons and muslin to more durable fabrics meant for an active toddler. It may sound trivial, but my heart isn’t ready for this change. I cling to those cherished lovies and footed pajamas, still attached to the baby who wore them.
I often think we didn’t capture enough memories; as if the thousands of photos in my phone somehow aren’t sufficient.
But what if she is my last?
My daughter’s face is changing; her cheeks are thinning, and her curls now cascade to her shoulders. She can pull her hair into an adorable little ponytail that melts my heart. She’s my lively toddler now, shedding the sweet scent of infancy that I didn’t savor enough, nor did I sniff her head nearly as often as I should have. Perhaps that sounds odd, but other mothers would understand.
As Jake and I finished organizing, our daughter awakened, calling out for us from her crib. We exchanged smiles and darted down the hall, playfully jostling each other for the chance to be the first through the nursery door. The first to scoop her up and bask in the joy of her delighted “Mama!” or “Dada!” upon our arrival.
It’s curious how we now cherish those fleeting moments: the nighttime cuddles, Sunday strolls, even grocery trips. These precious experiences, which we may have taken for granted with our eldest, are now viewed through a lens of appreciation. We understand that one day, we’ll wake up to find our roly-poly infant has transformed into a lanky kid. While that’s a beautiful evolution, can time please just slow down?
Jake reached the nursery first, changing her diaper, showering her with kisses, and singing “Twinkle, Twinkle” in a comically exaggerated voice. Watching from the doorway, I smiled, knowing he relishes every second as if babyhood were a fleeting treasure.
That question lingers in both our hearts, urging us to cherish each moment. Because what if she is our last?
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In summary, navigating the emotions tied to the growth of our children can be both beautiful and bittersweet. The fear of missing out on another child, combined with the joy of the ones we have, creates a complex tapestry of motherhood filled with love, nostalgia, and uncertainty.