My first BabyCenter baby turned 18 on Monday.I have two other children, 20 and 15. And I love them all at exactly where they are in life.
I’ve not been much for looking back on their baby and toddler years and wishing they were still little. I mean, I understand: cute, cuddly, precious, with big eyes and little wiggly toes and tiny grasping fingers, the endless curiosity and insistent exploration and always the amazing soaking-in of knowledge. The family resemblances in faces, talents, gestures…
And the constant wailing, kicking tantrums, blowout diapers, sleepless nights, vomit-covered beds/walls/carpets, the escape artistry, and the refusal to cooperate.
In this post on Scary Mommy the author says, “Someday, I’ll wish I could go back,” and relates a story of an elderly woman, seemingly thinking in wistful memory of her own little ones as she watches the author engage with her three small children, at least in the author’s mind. She imagined that this woman was remembering how it felt to be needed as a mommy, that she was longing for decades past so she could feel that way again.
Maybe. But maybe not. Maybe she was thinking she wanted ice cream later, or that she was looking forward to getting back to her book. Or maybe she was just enjoying the view of a young family.
Now, I love kids. I babysat when I was teenager, and I volunteered many hours in elementary school from kinder to sixth grade, but I’ve no desire to have any more children of my own. I chose to have three, and when the third arrived, that door closed. We were happy to close it and focus on the preschooler, toddler, and infant that comprised my dream come true.
And once the expense and stink of the diaper door was finally closed, we focused on the school-aged kids we now had. The conversations changed. We could see into the depths of their minds, watch them think and see how their logic worked. We could say, “I don’t know – let’s find out” and we taught them how to research, how to comprehend, how to decide what was right from what was wrong.
And once elementary school was done, we focused on the middle- and high-school kids. The conversations changed again. Body changes, sexuality, belief systems, peer pressure, politics, drivers’ licenses and voter registrations. We watched agape as this generation began to change the world in ways I thought would never happen.
My now 18-year-old graduates from high school this month. The youngest has two more years before that door will finally be closed. My husband and I will have done what we set out to do: Raise competent, independent adults and good citizens who no longer need us like they used to.
I don’t wish them small again, I never have, and I refuse to feel sad that we’ve raised them up. Do I get nostalgic? Of course. I can get teary with love over photos from when they were tiny and adorable. I recall staring at them as they nursed, committing the sight and scent and sound and sensation to memory, because I knew I wouldn’t be back there again. The early efforts at drawing, scribbles on paper that were Mommy and Daddy and the cat. Piles of books and Hot Wheels cars and baby dolls. But I don’t wish those years back. We lived them, we took pictures, and we embraced every next level of parenting adventures.
My husband and I will be married 25 years next year, and we’ll be preparing for that empty nest. Never say never, but I sincerely doubt I will ever look at a young family at a restaurant table and wish myself back to those days. I may remember how much I learned during that time about my children and myself, and wish I could tell that young mother to enjoy your moment, right now – because as people love to say, they do grow up so fast.
I will cry at every graduation and achievement, because I’m proud and love them with every fiber of my being. Not because I’m sad, or regretful, or wishing them out of their current lives and back to infancy. Love overflows my heart and out my eyes: Look at them! Heading out into life! What amazing people they are! Look what we did! Look what they have taught us! How lucky we are to have made and raised these individuals! Give me a hanky, for I will soak it.
Better bring two. I’m a sappy sort.
Above is a photograph of my youngest at 3 years old where she is seated in my lap facing me, and peering out to the world shyly from beneath her bangs with her giant blue eyes. I loved her that small, needing the security of my arms, but when I see that photo now, I think of how confident she has grown since then, how strong and independent and very much not-shy she has become. I celebrated her right where she was back then, and I celebrate her where she is, right now.
Before anyone excoriates me, I know everyone’s personal story and journey is different, and this one is mine. If I were that elderly woman in the restaurant, if you felt I was wishing myself back in time, you’d be wrong. Instead, I’d want to give an old Jedi’s advice to that mother going forward: Focus on the here and now. This is where you are. This is where your children are. Don’t wish yourself or them back to the past, or you’ll miss the amazing people that are growing right in front of you, right now. Revel in it.
Katie, Karl and Jayne. October 2013. Photo by Laura Larsen.
Featured photo by Jennifer Shoote.
