Updated: Sep. 10, 2019
Originally Published: Dec. 6, 2015
For nine long months, I carried my child, enduring endless waves of nausea, sleepless nights, and the constant worry about my abilities as a mother. The physical weight of those 30 pounds was nothing compared to the emotional burden I felt during that time.
In the early days of motherhood, I managed only four hours of sleep each night. The nights seemed to stretch on indefinitely before my body adjusted to the relentless cycle of sleep deprivation. Those fragmented hours left me stumbling through the day, struggling to engage in coherent conversations while my little one peacefully slumbered on my shoulder.
Thirty minutes was the average time I found myself delayed during those chaotic early days. No matter how meticulously I planned, there was always a forgotten item—a book, a snack, or a shoe—along with diaper changes and toddler meltdowns that thwarted my best efforts. The weight of those lost moments made me question whether I would ever be punctual again.
On my child’s first day of preschool, I stood for twenty minutes at the classroom window, knowing he was in caring hands. Yet, seeing his tears as he grappled with my absence weighed heavily on my heart in a way I had never experienced before.
Now, with my boys in school, my house sits empty for eight hours each day. Those hours, devoid of laughter or the sound of toys, don’t feel liberating; instead, they are heavy with nostalgia, reminding me of days spent on the floor with puzzles and scattered Cheerios.
Nine is the number of years my son has been a part of my life, and it also marks the years I have left before he embarks on his own journey away from home.
In those early days of parenting, it often feels like you’re pushing a boulder uphill, with the weight of time and exhaustion pulling you back. Suddenly, you find yourself at the summit—the midpoint of this journey. Behind you lie the days of sticky fingers and adorable mispronunciations. The burdens that once felt overwhelming now transform into cherished memories that slip by all too quickly.
To my friends with infants and toddlers: those days of seemingly endless frustration will eventually pass. I understand that they feel weighty right now, but don’t wish them away. The summit will arrive before you know it.
Just last night, my son asked me to snuggle with him for five more minutes. I could have easily declined, citing dinner preparations or laundry, but I chose to say yes—always yes. Time spent with my child feels weightless when I’m wrapped in his small embrace.
As we lay there in the dark, he whispered, “I don’t want to turn 9. I don’t want to grow up.” In that moment, I realized that while I stand atop this hill, my son is also caught in the same place—yearning to grow, yet longing to remain a little boy. The weight of time is equally heavy for both of us.
So, I held him a little tighter, showered him with love, and let go of any thoughts of growing up. For that night, the world remained full of wonder, magic, and innocence. Together, we lingered at the top of the hill, not quite ready to begin our descent.
If you’re interested in learning more about pregnancy and home insemination, check out this excellent resource on family building options at Resolve. You can also explore this article on connection to delve deeper into the emotional aspects of parenting.
Summary:
This article reflects on the passage of time in motherhood, sharing poignant moments of joy and the bittersweet nature of watching children grow. The author emphasizes the importance of cherishing every fleeting moment, encouraging parents to embrace the present rather than rush through it.