By: Brady Evans
They all say “they grow up so fast” but you really don’t know it until it happens to you. The 37 weeks I was pregnant were the longest days of my life. I was like a kid watching the clock on Christmas Eve for all those days: wishing, worrying, and wondering about all that was to come. And now – in two short weeks – my baby will be 1.
I am so, so sad about my baby turning 1. I am not sure why. Maybe because I’m fairly certain this will be my only baby and each experience I have with him is the first and the last I’ll have as a mother. I know he can’t stay a baby forever nor do I want him to. But I am sad that he is that much closer to not needing me. Not lighting up when I pick him up for daycare (I see those 4-year-olds who are grumpy with mom and dad picking them up). Not being his favorite person ever (I swear he smiles so hard at me he’s bound to break his mouth). I know he loves me now more than he’ll ever love me. He’ll only love me less from here on out – and he’s got to love me less so that he can love others more, and I understand that, but it is hard. And I guess that’s what I am scared to lose – I will love him more and more and he will love me less and less. How selfish is that? One day I’ll pick him up and hold him, put him down because he’s gotten awfully heavy, and never pick him up again.
I am also so, so excited about my baby turning 1. It is amazing watching him learn. He uses sign language, understands tons of words we say to him, and calls his father by “dada.” (Yes, it is some crime against mothers that he knows and recognizes many words and “mom” is not one of them. I’ll get over it.) I can’t wait until he tells me he loves me. Until I watch in pride at his first sporting event or theater production. We have so many more joyous memories to come than we’ve already had and that’s exciting.
Man. Love hurts.