Teach Mom Learn

This piece is going to be the first in a series of posts on this blog reflecting on being a mom. There are bittersweet joys, moments of triumph, heartache, crushing guilt, and most of all, so much love. I’m excited to share them with you!

I wrote today’s post about a month ago. On this bitterly cold, icy day, my daughter fell asleep in my arms for the first time in over a year. And knowing it was a special, fleeting moment, I savored every second of this time with her. So here is a reflection on what could very well be our last nap together:

If you asked me yesterday about the last time my daughter napped in my arms, I couldn’t have told you anything. What had been our ritual for the first 14 months of her life ended abruptly about a year ago. I can’t remember why or even when, and I have no recollection of that last nap. I didn’t even realize those moments were behind us until at least a month after crib naps had become our new normal.

That’s how so much of motherhood is. You’re so busy all the time, that little by little, the rituals you love disappear without you even realizing until it’s too late. The last time passes without you ever knowing that it’s over.  And then, you look back and wonder how it ended and wish you had slowed down and taken in every detail while you could.

Today was different. I got out of work early because of an ice storm, came home, and snuggled up with my not-so-little girl, husband, and cat on our couch for some afternoon quiet time.

My daughter happily watched Blippi and Super Simple songs for a little while, and I noticed her eyes becoming heavier and her breathing getting softer. When her eyes fluttered closed and she heaved her sleepy sigh, my husband helped me move her ever so slightly so I could snuggle up with her the way I used to when she was younger.  I wrapped my arm across her chest, and she stirred slightly, snuggling in.

And this time, I knew that it was most likely the last time we would ever do this.

My daughter is 2, and she’s starting to phase out her nap. Her little sister will arrive in about 3 months. Quiet moments alone together are fleeting, and I’m trying to soak in every one.  So today, while my daughter slept in my arms, I did everything I wished I did the last time she slept in my arms.

I listened to her soft breathing. I took in every detail of her sweet little face, from the way her dark eyelashes curled to her Cupid’s bow lips open just slightly to reveal her little toddler smile.  She actually smiles ever so slightly in her sleep.  Her cheeks, still a little plump from babyhood, flushed slightly.  Her little feet looked so cute in her orange bumblebee pajamas.  I know I’ll miss the footed pajamas not too long from now.

I gazed at her chubby little hands. I patted her cheeks softly and took in the curve of her nose.  She sighed and tossed in her sleep every so often, making soft little sounds. I savored these moments of stillness with my sweet little wild child.

When our new baby sensed her warmth and rhythmic breathing, she scooted close to her sister. I could actually feel her snuggling up, and I’m grateful I got to be part our girls’ first hug in a unique and special way. 

As much as the lasts normally break my heart, this one was different.  It felt like a gift because for once, I knew it was the last time and I could be present and enjoy it. And it also made me think of so many firsts to come.

There will be a first time she snuggles up to her baby sister outside my belly, a first time she sleeps in a toddler bed, a first time she says, “I love you.”  Throughout her life, I will let hundreds of lasts pass us unnoticed.  But we have to let them go to make way for the infinite firsts to come. 

For more of reflections on motherhood, please check out When You Have a Baby, Everything Changes or The Amazing, Hilarious (and Sometimes Painful) Truth About Parenting a One-Year-Old.