Mamas don’t let your babies grow up
Aug 27, 2011 - 07:04 AM
I’ve entered a bit of a sentimental phase recently. I don’t know if it’s because my daughter started Kindergarten a couple of weeks ago or because we celebrated our fifth year as a family this month. Maybe both. But lately…I miss my baby.
I’m loving this time with my daughter – don’t misunderstand. But the other night, we were watching some of the videos from our adoption trip to China – like we do every year on our “Familyversary” – and I was overcome with melancholy. How did those first few years slip by so quickly? And in a few more years, I’ll feel the same about these days with my sweet, little Kindergartener!
I know all parents go through these emotional trials. So many of my friends are experiencing these feelings as their “babies” head off to college – something I can’t even think about right now.
The one thing I can think about – I have to think about – is that I can’t wallow in the past. Otherwise, I’ll miss the present. And I can’t let my daughter know that I miss “my baby.” I want her to know that I love her for who she is – not who she was. And I want her to know that it’s okay to grow up.
Besides, there’s nothing I can do about it anyway. Kind of like this interminable heat. Or Tulsa’s street construction.
And I can’t go to the mall. I made that mistake this morning. Yes, I know going to the mall in general is a mistake, but I’d forgotten how many moms take their babies to the mall on weekday mornings! Everywhere I looked there were babies in strollers. I was already on the emotional edge when a precious little 18-month-old waved at me from her stroller. I practically had a mini-meltdown in the Dillard’s shoe department.
It made me long for those days when I took Piper to the mall in her stroller. It made me wish we could adopt another baby. But…alas, that is not meant to be. And that’s another post for another day. It’s too long and complicated and personal to go into here.
Instead, I’ll just make more memories with my daughter to fill that baby-shaped hole. And remember what my friend whose 28-year-old daughter is from Korea said just last night about having only one child: “Why mess with perfection?”