On the day you embrace parenthood, you find yourself eagerly anticipating all the milestones your child will reach. You look forward to their first time rolling over, trying rice cereal, sleeping through the night, cutting their first tooth, taking their first steps, and flashing a toothless grin while calling you “Mama.” Each of these joyous firsts is celebrated, often shared on social media platforms like Facebook and Instagram. Baby books brim with the important dates marking these milestones. Every achievement is a triumph, each transition into childhood exhilarating and new. Parents often compare the pace at which their little ones achieve these firsts, creating a community of shared joy and, sometimes, competition.
However, amidst the excitement of firsts, what about the lasts? Can you recall those fleeting moments when your child did something for the final time as they ventured toward greater independence? My mother often reminded me that while firsts are vividly remembered, the lasts tend to fade away.
As my children transition into their teenage years, I reflect on how swiftly their childhood has slipped away from me, much like grains of sand. There are countless cherished moments that simply ceased without my notice.
When was the last time I quietly entered my son’s room to find him fast asleep, a pacifier dangling from his mouth? Can I recall the moment when my daughter chose her footie pajamas, putting them on inside out for bedtime? The echoes of tiny feet padding across the hardwood floor now seem like a distant memory. Why can’t I pinpoint the last day when I included baby wash, diapers, and butt paste on my shopping list?
What about that final bubble bath, where I would lovingly wash her baby curls, splashing and playing as we created memories? When was the last instance I held my son close, feeling his infant weight against my shoulder, finally surrendering to sleep after a long struggle? The days of rocking her in the softly lit nursery I had meticulously prepared seem to have slipped away without a trace.
At what moment did I notice my baby crawling transform into two children who walk and speak fluently? When did we bid farewell to bottles, sippy cups, and toddler tantrums? I remember the epic meltdowns, yet I can’t recall the day he calmly expressed his desires instead.
When was the last time I picked up my daughter, worn out from a day of adventure, and tucked her into bed, marveling at how her peaceful slumber changed the ambiance of her room? When did I stop seeing my son in the rearview mirror, strapped into his car seat, only to find him sitting next to me, engaged in debates over music and directions? I often ponder when that moment will be when he no longer sits by my side before taking the wheel himself.
And then there’s the wistful question: when did they stop calling me “Mommy”? Transitioning to “Mom” carries a bittersweet pang in my heart. Though I know they will always need me, the endearing names they used to call me hold a special place in my memories. I struggle to recall the last instance they uttered those cherished names.
While there are many lasts behind me, the future is filled with firsts—first dates, driver’s permits, and the first nights spent away at college. I will undoubtedly cherish these moments and hope to keep pace with the rapid changes ahead. I will capture photos of my son with his first car, and my daughter alongside her prom date. I’ll likely post bittersweet reflections on social media about my little ones moving out. Yet, the past few years have taught me the importance of savoring every moment, ensuring I remain present to witness those lasts as they unfold.
Because holding onto the best moments, even as they come to an end, is never a negative experience.
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