Tiny Monumentals

March 3, 2018


I tried not to tear up this morning as I boarded my flight.

My oldest lost his first tooth yesterday. My youngest and I ended our nursing journey at 16 months. The last of my babies. The very last of our nursing. You could say it was a big day for the Smith house. My babies aren’t babies anymore and I can’t wrap my head around it.  Blink-of-an-eye-quick, just like they all said.

My heart is hurting for all the time I wished away.

The midnight nursing sessions. The terrible twos. The very public tantrums. All of those times I was sure I was going to break because I was spread too thin. The exhausting, the tiring, the frustrating, all of it. I wished it all away. I just wanted some normalcy, a good night’s sleep, a bit of quiet.

And then one day, I just don’t have babies anymore. I now have these perfect little tiny humans navigating the world. Their perfect little tiny personalities and their perfectly tiny quirks. They are growing by leaps and bounds and my heart swells to see them doing so well in this life. They are sweet and adorable and life isn’t half as hard as it was even just a year ago.

I wish I had lived in the moment more. I wish I had been less frustrated. I wish I had been more understanding. I wish I had put away my phone on that millionth and one nursing session. I wish I had said yes more. I wish I had cleaned less. I wish I had been as present as I intended to be on the day each of my three was born. I wish I hadn’t let the tired rule my day. I wish there wouldn’t have been so many tears, for both of us. I wish I had been more grateful for this very difficult season of my life. I wish I realized how truly quick it was going to vanish. The days dragged on until they just didn’t anymore and now I just want some of that awfully exhausting time back.

Hug your babies. Hold them right.

Just hold on, Mama, it’ll be over all too soon.