I think, perhaps, that’s exactly what she is. A wild creature in a forest of domesticity.
***
For you mamas of babies, the ones who still cry for no reason, who won’t go back to sleep, who only know one safe place in the world and it’s in your arms, all the live-long day: it gets better.
I mean, apart from the aforementioned, it’s super great now, right? You know this moment is fleeting and there’s just no way to grab hold of it tight enough, no way to keep it from turning all sepia-like in your memory. You look into the future and it’s a blank canvas; the reality is now. Change is coming and it’s gonna hurt like a… well, you know…
But here’s the thing: as wonderful as life is now, it will get even better.
Eventually they will learn to talk, learn to wipe, learn to hold a fork. They will have whole conversations with you, tell you why they’re sad, thank you for all you do. They will be the same, but different; full-bodied essences of the same wee soul.
Yes, they will change, but so will you. And you can grow up, grow wiser, grow closer together.
Don’t waste your time on the know-how books or advice columns, but take videos and take notes and sing songs that they’ll still ask to hear years and years later.
Whichever age they are now is the best. And every year after will be, too.
***
Asher was super angry one day last week, crying like that long-lost baby in his crib. I went in and sat on his bed, cradled his growing body against the curve of my stomach, and tried to rock with him right there.
My body moved back and forth and I sang Jesus You’re Beautiful like I did way back when and his voice shushed and mine croaked. His tears gave way to mine and it was the best kind of awful. I thought of the old rocking chair Matt restored and desperately missed every single moment of the last six years.
This is it, I thought, the last time I’ll hold him like this, sing to him like this.
But it won’t be. The last time won’t ever come.
***
This article originally appeared at KarenOHuber.com.
