I was looking at old pictures that have been popping up on the cloud of my phone lately. Pictures, mostly, from around four years ago when our family of five was only a family of three. My oldest was around the same age my middle is now, but the truth is I wasn’t staring at Goose as much as I was staring at myself.
They say with each child your heart grows in size, but what they don’t usually add is so do your hips [boobs, butt, belly, excess skin, bags under your eyes, number of gray hairs]. I started looking at myself, and what started out as being self-critical soon turned into tears of understanding.
Truth be told, I’ve been very hard on myself lately. Hard because after I gave birth to my middle, I returned to my “old body” a lot quicker than I am this time around. That pregnancy was also a lot easier, considering I didn’t have a toddler but a preschooler, and I did better at staying in shape because I wasn’t as sick or tired. Details aside, the point is I’ve been hard on myself. And I thought staring at those pictures would make it worse.
But instead, the pictures gave me an odd sort of peace. I honestly can’t say acceptance yet, but a strange understanding and peace is putting it nicely. You see, with each child my life has changed. The dynamic, the routine, the attention-span – all of it. This season of life I am in this very moment offers way different challenges than the season of life I was in ten years ago, even six years ago, four years ago, two years ago. It continuously changes. The thing is, though, this season of life I am in- the one that is called motherhood- is going to last the rest of my life.
There are some parts of the old me I envy. I envy the ability to remember what I wanted to write down on the grocery list, or the ability to mosey around the store uninterrupted (and without being stared at because of my three dragons). I envy the ability to go out late at night for a quick grocery run while my husband is out of town, without having to think of messing up someone’s routine. I envy the ability to be slightly more spontaneous without having to take the time to pack the diaper bag. And those things will probably come back, in time, as the kiddos get older.
But there are some things that won’t come back, and those are the things that I am currently clinging to. Those are the things that remind me that this beautiful season of life is the best one I’m ever going to be in. While not entirely relatable, a quote from Parenthood comes to mind:
“The only way not to screw [kids] up is not to have them, and what a shame that would be.”
What a shame that would be.
You see, this season of life has brought me the most fantastic title I could ever hope to have: Mom. Mama. Mommy.
This season of life has given me battle scars from giving birth (three times).
This season has given me bags under my eyes from helping my middle little fall back asleep after having a bad dream and just wanting Mommy, and getting up early the next day to take care of him and his brothers (and their father, let’s just be real here).
This season has given me gray hairs from witnessing my husband pulling out a loose tooth that was hanging by a thread, taking my middle to the hospital when he got a concussion from running into his brother, stressing over my youngest as he gained weight slowly when he was born early.
This season of life has given me so many things that most people would view negatively, but which I am seeing in a whole new light.
And the thing is, this season of life doesn’t end.
It changes a little, as babies become toddlers and toddlers become teenagers and teenagers become adults and adults have their own families.
That’s life.
But this season which has been named motherhood, parenthood, fatherhood- it never goes away. The old me, the one that existed before parenthood, she’s in there… but she is forever changed. If given the chance, I wouldn’t want to go back to her. Because I am so much better of a person now thanks to my children, even if I don’t always see it that way.
And even if the days feel like years and the years feel like days, I am so grateful for it. Grateful for every extra ounce and gray hair and dark circles and stretch mark because those are all a part of this journey.
Of course, I’m only human. This post sprouted from the idea that I would really love to lose ten pounds by Christmas and sleep a little more so I didn’t look haggard– but in the grand scheme of things, I know those little details don’t matter.
The cuddles that won’t always be wanted, the stories they won’t always want to share, the cries for kisses and just one more lullaby– these are the details that matter. And they won’t always be present. So I’m going to soak them up.
The Newfangled Housewife 