I have experienced the grief of losing a child. I have lost friends and family members. None of them were something that I care to relive and the loss of my children are something that I still “manage” every day.
But there has been a grief of a different kind that has been rearing its’ ugly head. It has been happening for years but I don’t think I recognized it to begin with. It kinda snuck up on me. It has been the grief that is associated with my children growing up.
Of course, I want them to grow up. I want them to experience all the good things that come with becoming an adult and accomplishing all the things that they desire in life. I want them to enjoy their childhoods, their teenage years, college and eventually meeting someone to spend and expand their lives with. I want them to have children and watch them grow up. And I want to watch them do all of that.
Let’s go back a minute. I used to dream about the nights that I would be able to sleep all night. Or shower without anyone asking me to open fruit snacks (as they walked right by their dad). Or to just be able to take a breath and not be so exhausted and stressed about every decision I made, which at the time, those decisions felt huge and life-altering.
Now I wish for those moments a little. I miss that they were SO excited to see me when I got back home. I miss their little hands touching my face while I fed them as babies. I miss running after little naked butts as they ran from me after a bath. I miss the joy on their faces when they learned something new.
It hits me harder with Noah lately. He’s getting so tall and his round baby face is gone. He’s looking more “manly” all the time and it hits me out of nowhere — where did my baby go? Did I blink too much?? I feel it for other mamas too. One of my preschoolers (I taught before Noah was born) just turned 19. 19!!! I couldn’t believe it when I saw the pictures. How is that sweet blond boy grown up?? A friend of mine has a daughter that is 2. She’s bright and shiny and reminds me of Avery at that age. She speaks in the sweet little voice that sounds just like Avie at that age. My nephew is turning 13 today. He wasn’t the first baby I ever held, but I cuddled him more hours that I can count, many of which were while I was pregnant with Noah. I found I was pregnant with Noah just a week after he was born. The fact that he’s so grown up does something to my heart that I haven’t felt before. He’s good and kind and I couldn’t wish for a more beautiful soul. I feel a squeeze in my heart when I think about him.
As a mother/baby nurse, I want to tell these new mamas to take a breath, to enjoy their sweet, fleeting moments, that it’s not so serious. Mostly, I want her to know that it will fly by before she knows it and she will be looking straight into their faces instead of down into their eyes. I’m going to say that to you now. If your babies are little, it will go by so fast. They are learning so much every day. They are getting taller, smarter, brighter. Every. Single. Day.
I had a patient one time (I don’t remember her name or even when this was, but I remember her face) that was so concerned with ever little choice she made. She was trying to breastfeed, but she was struggling. She asked about supplementing, but before I could answer her question, she quickly said “nevermind, I’ll just make it work.” But her face and her body language said she still wanted help. I took a some time and presented her with all of her options. I told her everything that I knew about establishing breastfeeding, about supplementing by syringe vs nipple, about what literature says about nipple confusion and pacifiers. I told her everything so that she could feel confident about her decision. But I also told her this: “The fact that you love your baby as much as you do, that you care enough to stress over these choices, that’s enough. She will be fine. You will be fine. She will be okay because she’s going to know that you love her.” I will never forget that mama and that conversation and I hope that it helped relieve a little bit of her anxiety.
It’s not easy to help these little people grow up to be productive, independent members of society. It’s not always going to be fun. But it goes faster than you can imagine. And if you’re like me, you will grieve each of the phases of their childhood and adolescence as you look back on them, because you don’t even know when that stage ended. You just know that it did.
I want Noah to grow up. I want him to have all the things his heart desires. I want him to have it all.
But while he does all that, I’m going to grieve over the little boy that I held and hugged and love with all of my heart.
Life Inside Looking Out 