I have never been the kind of mom who asks time to slow down. In fact, I wanted Ember Eve to leave the baby period and become a toddler. I didn’t want my baby to stay small forever. I look forward to her changes and growth and what is to come and still do. But I understand why some moms do beg time to slow down; I understand why they wish they could hold onto these baby/toddler moments a little longer.
Lately, I’m torn between wanting baby 2 to arrive and wanting to be only Ember Eve’s mom for a little while longer. While I recognize that the choice isn’t mine and this baby will come when she’s ready, I’ve been struggling with this split. I’m tired of being pregnant. I’ve been pregnant for 17 out of the last 24 months, and I’m ready to reclaim my body. On the other hand, I don’t feel ready for another newborn. I do not look forward to a baby’s incessant needs, the feeding alarm clocks, and constant nurturing. I’m in this weird limbo place in which I know I still have some time before this baby comes, but I also realize that she’s going to be here so soon. It’s like I am standing outside and watching dark clouds move across the sky, knowing that a storm is coming. Even though I know I have some time before it hits, I feel rooted in place, as if all I can do is watch–a silent bystander. It’s a bizarre place to be, and I often don’t feel like me. I’ve been a little blah lately, and I think I felt this way in the third trimester during Ember Eve’s pregnancy.
Similarly, lately, I watch Ember and feel fleeting nostalgia, as if I know how quickly this is passing. Blame pregnancy hormones if you want, but I’m far more emotional than normal. I want her to remain the running, squealing, delightful toddler that she is, but I am also excited for her to develop into a functioning little girl. I long for her to talk to me, to actually tell me things, and to become an individual. Yet, I know I will miss these days when it was simpler in many ways.
Lately, I’ve been asking myself if simply existing in these moments is enough. Every day, every week, every year we create memories. But how many of them do we actually hold? How many slip away like water through cupped hands? I know I won’t remember so much of this, and in some ways that breaks my heart. I take pictures and videos, but I don’t want to be so glued to my phone in an effort to record my child that I forget to exist in the moment. So I ask, what is enough? Is simply existing in and relishing in these moments in real time enough?
Will I remember the joy with which Ember Eve devours her raisin toast and blueberries in the morning? Will I remember the intensity with which she reads and flips through her books in the morning when she’s waking up? Will I remember how she squeals and waves, standing on her little stool at the front window, when the mailman comes? What about her obsession with pointing at flowers and trees and how she curls into the dogs when they are sprawled out on the floor? Is it possible to remember all her firsts? The first time she smiled? Her first words? Her first steps? The first time she said my name? How can I remember all of it? How can I hold it and carry it with me forever? If I can’t exist here for more than a moment, I at least want to keep it like a sacred token and pull it out of my pocket when I need it. I wish I could breathe it all in, hold it inside me, and experience it all again during my sad, dark moments when I need a child’s joy.
My sister posted the video below to FB recently, and it was exactly what I needed to see. True to form for me lately, I cried while watching it. OK the real truth–I blubbered. I know parenthood isn’t for everyone, and, honestly, I’m glad. We can’t all be basket cases who weep when they see videos of baby elephants rolling around in pools of water or sad stories of a dog’s last days. Parenthood is for me, and that has become abundantly clear this past year. This song and video shook me from this weird limbo I’d been hanging out in and encouraged me to relish in these moments without worrying about how fleeting it all might be. This video wouldn’t have meant much to me last April, before Ember Eve was born, but now I can’t watch it without crying. It’s crazy how much I’ve changed since becoming a mother, and it’s so hard to explain the identity shift.
I have realized it’s all going to go by so fast. Soon, I will have another baby and Ember Eve will continue to grow into a little person. And that’s OK. It’s OK. Existing in these moment is enough, and it has to be. I vow to be present as much as I can be. I vow to be the one to “slow down,” as the song’s refrain states. I think the song intends for life to slow down, but we know that’s impossible. Life and my kids won’t slow down, but I can do better. I can try not to feel sad that it’s passing and instead enjoy the hell out of every moment. I can squeeze my toddler tight and let her giggles and squeals wash over me, reminding me to live with joy. I’ll try to enjoy baby girl #2’s newborn period. I’ll slow down, despite the fatigue, and simply exist with my family.
If you’re a parent, watch the video. It’s a great reminder that even though we really can’t slow down life, we can enjoy it. Though I still plan to take some videos and pictures of my kids (I do want some memories preserved, of course), I plan to live a little more and record a little less. I’d rather experience life than take 100 videos of it as an outsider. I’d rather feel my baby’s skin pressed against mine and listen to her cooing than push a phone into her face to take a picture or video of her. I’d rather run through the yard with Ember Eve, feeling the same soft grass she feels beneath my bare feet that she feels, than record her doing it.
It is enough to simply exist in the moment. It is enough to be present. It has to be.
Video: Slow Down