Parenting
“They’ve grown so much!” My partner, Mark, seemed taken aback, his expression a mix of disbelief and nostalgia. “When did that happen?” he asked, searching my face for answers.
I knew the answer all too well. Like many significant life changes, their growth had been a gradual process over the years, even if we were reluctant to acknowledge it. In fact, I had seen it coming long before this moment. But, for Mark, it was as if the realization had just struck him.
“I remember holding them in one hand,” he sighed, his voice thick with longing. “Are they really gone for good?”
“Don’t be so dramatic,” I replied, trying to lighten the mood.
“It’s just that I miss those days,” he said, a hint of sadness in his eyes.
“I’m sorry, but let’s be honest—when they were that small, they were a handful!” I admitted. “I mean, wasn’t it a struggle?”
“How can you say that? They were so cute!” he insisted.
“Cute, yes, but they were also underfoot all the time!” I retorted, rolling my eyes.
“I understand you feel differently, but I miss it,” he murmured, looking away wistfully.
“I’m sure you do, but remember all those sleepless nights?” I shot back.
“They woke me up too,” he said with a smirk.
“Let’s not even start.”
“Do we need them around to feel fulfilled? Wasn’t that what kept us together?” he asked.
“Of course not! They just brought a certain…chaos to our lives back then,” I replied.
“Maybe for you. I can barely recall those early days; it’s all a blur.”
“I remember everything!”
“Really? Because I remember how expensive it was to raise them,” I countered.
“Like it isn’t expensive now?” he exclaimed, and we locked eyes, the tension palpable.
He wanted me to see his perspective, and I began to waver. “We could start fresh,” he suggested with a mischievous grin. “How about a new batch?”
I immediately shook my head. “No way! Have you seen these stretch marks?” I sighed, the weight of nostalgia creeping in. “Those days are behind us. Honestly, I never even wanted the last two! They were a moment of weakness for me—something to please you. Now, when I look at them, I feel regret!”
“Take that back!” he said, stunned.
“I wish I could take them back!”
He sat there, bewildered and silent, as if my honesty had knocked the wind out of him.
I tried to soften the moment, patting his shoulder. “We can’t live in the past. We should cherish the good memories.”
“Well, I do have pictures,” he replied, his voice wavering.
“Oh, come on—are you crying again?”
“No, but sometimes when I see those photos, it hits me,” he confessed.
I grasped his hands, trying to bridge the emotional gap. “It’s an adjustment for both of us, but I’m happier now, can’t you see?”
“Happy is one word for it,” he muttered.
“Yes, it’s different, but it was time to move on.”
He stared at the laundry, avoiding my gaze as if I were a brick wall.
“Anyway, I’m well past 40,” I reminded him.
“So what? I’ve seen older women have kids,” he protested.
“Mark, you can’t understand what I went through. I’m done! You weren’t the one who spent years caring for little ones. Now, it’s easier. They hug me instead of just clinging on. I enjoy this phase. I know you don’t see it, but I finally feel…free!”
I let out a sigh, feeling the weight lift.
He tried to muster a smile, but I could tell he wasn’t quite there. “You’ve always had that freedom. I need your support, not your judgment,” I said, my tone more earnest.
He sighed and picked up a pair of my enormous beige underwear from the laundry basket, holding them like a trophy. “I guess they really are only little once,” he conceded, wiping a tear with them.