Before I had kids, I read every book about birth and parenting I could get my hands on. I knew that I would be tired, that life would never be the same, and that having a baby would change our family dynamic in an unalterable way.
I knew these things, but I didn’t really know them.
I knew, for example, that I’d be tired but I didn’t know how hard being utterly exhausted would be. When my first baby was new, I remember desperately wanting a little more sleep, and feeling incredibly, unforgivably selfish because of it. I wish that someone had told me I might feel this way, and that it was okay.
I also knew that life would never be the same, but I had no idea what “not really the same” meant. I didn’t understand that my world would shift so completely from a self-centered focus to a what’s-best-for-my-child focus. I wish that someone would have shared that at times that shift would seem completely logical, and at others, it would be incredible difficult.
I knew that babies cry and toddlers throw tantrums and five-year olds test independence. But I didn’t know that I’d be really good at handling some of these, and not so good at others. I wish someone had told me that every phase is only that: a phase that will pass before you know it.
I knew that there would be more laundry. And there is.
Everyone did tell me, of course, that time would fly. But in the midst of diapers and baby food, I couldn’t really comprehend it. Now there are no more diapers and no more high chairs. Those cute overalls have been replaced by Hollister t-shirts and ripped up jeans. I feel like the film is on fast-forward, and sometimes I can’t find the pause button. I hope someone will help me figure out where it is.
