Treasure Every Moment

I had an odd moment of understanding while reading Why Having More Babies Isn’t As Crazy As You May Think earlier today.  For some reason, the post unexpectedly tugged at my heart strings.

Strange.

Anyone who knows me knows that I declared myself ‘done with giving birth’ several years ago.  Don’t get me wrong – I absolutely, positively loved my two little ladies from the second that they appeared in my life.  But I like them a lot more now that they are walking, talking, independent young ladies who are easily transportable and capable of wiping their own butts.  Sometimes that makes me feel like a bad mother.  

I hope I’m not the only mother out there who feels this way.  If I am, well, then this is an awkward post.  But, once upon a time, I believed I was the only exhausted, exasperated, constantly sweating mother of an infant who incessantly wished the days away in hopes of more sleep, less drool and just one free minute in the day to pee in privacy.  Once upon a time, I really did believe that it was just me, but now I know better.  Now I know that there is an entire underground network of sleep deprived, overly sensitive new moms who find themselves constantly on the brink of tears when a stranger whispers those guilt-inducing words, “treasure every moment,” at the worst possible moment.

Ugh.

Funny thing is, now that I know all of that, I find that I’m the stranger.  I’m the (nearly) caught up on my sleep mom of non-infants who knows, first hand, that the years roll by too quickly.  The sleepless nights are only temporary, the breastfeeding bras are a passing fad and potty training is just a blip in time.  Tiny little toes grow fast and chubby cheeks don’t last forever yet, somehow, when we’re stuck in the middle of it all we forget to treasure every moment.  

Oh, I haven’t changed my mind on that ‘done with giving birth’ thing.  I am done.  My fellow blogger simply made more babies sound so intriguing, so romantic for a moment.  Truth is, I’m happy to be the stranger and the mom who tries hard to treasure every moment with my two big babies.

My House in Shambles

My house was supposed to be back to normal today. It’s not. That doesn’t make me happy.

As it turns out, though, there are some benefits to a house in shambles. Go figure.

When our oldest daughter was born, we didn’t have a digital camera. I know that sounds ludicrous, but we didn’t. Of course, I also grew up without cable tv and a microwave oven so I suppose a primitive lifestyle comes naturally for me.

My husband and I didn’t have a digital camera, but we did have this fantastic underwater camera. (Don’t ask). It took beautiful pictures and, since I had the cutest, smartest and most gifted child in the world, I needed a camera that would capture her every move. I lugged that baby around in my designer diaper bag and snapped photos of my little cherubs’ every move.

And then I would drop 14 rolls of film off at the drugstore and ask, incredulously, if I really had to wait 2 days to get them back.

Of course, I always returned to the store to pick up the results of my latest photo shoot exactly 48 hours after dropping them off. By the time my daughter was 6 months old, I ran out of wall space. There was no place left to show off her unparalleled cuteness. What was a mom to do?

Despairingly, I began storing her photos away. One by one, the endless rolls of film found their way to the back of a closet never to be seen or heard from again. They were sadly forgotten….until today.

Today, we found the long-forgotten photos and I gushed just like a new mom whose baby had just blinked for the first time. My daughter, embarrassed by the sheer number of naked pictures we had of her (she had the cutest little hiney), told us we were deranged and repeatedly rolled her eyes.

“Put those away,” she shouted more than once.

“OK, OK. I’ll put them away,” I said, “Oh, but wait, you just have to see this one before I do.”

“Oh fine,” she would answer with feigned reluctance.

The conversation repeated until she finally gave up and I gave her a seat. And then we sat together, in my house of shambles, and we looked back at her sheer cuteness….and I was happy.

Babies

I want a baby.

It’s quite possible that my husband just fell off his chair and is struggling for air right about now.  I would certainly be doing the same thing if the roles were reversed and it was him making that declaration.

Well, my dear husband, if you are still breathing and still reading this post, have no fear.  I don’t really want a baby of my own.  Instead, I have decided that I would just like to continually surround myself with friends who have babies that, on occasion, I am allowed to borrow.

I got to spend some time with a friend and her 4 month old baby today.  I only held him for about 10 minutes, but it was heavenly.  Just smelling his little head and cuddling that little body….pure delight.  I now recognize God’s wisdom in requiring a man to be involved in the reproductive process.  If women had the ability to procreate at will, we would be pregnant every time we had the opportunity to hold an infant.

The funny thing is, I didn’t truly enjoy the infancies of my own children.  I  rushed through it and swore I would never look back.  I didn’t bond with my first child immediately.  The guilt of that was only magnified by the pure delight that my husband exuded as soon as he laid eyes on her.  I did, of course, fall madly in love with her once I got to know her…but that took a little time.  I can only admit all of this now that time has passed and I’ve heard similar confessions from other women who felt the same way and who carried around the same guilt.  Once I came to understand that it wasn’t just me, the guilt began to fade.  And now, ten years later,  I get to simply focus on how completely and utterly enamored I am with both of my delicious little girls every single day of their lives.

You see?  Babies (eventually) make everybody happy.