I want a baby. Not a third child, and no, I don’t want to borrow your baby (nice try!). I want my baby back. Whether it’s a boy or a girl doesn’t matter at this point—maybe even both—just not at the same time.
Recently, I’ve been grappling with an embarrassing midlife “situation” where I find myself utterly enchanted by babies. I adore them. And as luck would have it, my social media feeds are flooded with adorable little ones: sleeping, learning to walk, freshly born, or celebrating their first birthdays. Those chubby little thighs, the tiniest fingers, and wispy hair are simply irresistible. Bright blue-eyed babies capture my heart, especially since both of my kids have varying shades of blue in their eyes, even now as teens.
These babies I see online are blank slates, needing nothing more than love, cuddles, and nourishment. What could be more uplifting than a newborn? They symbolize a new beginning, a reminder that life continues, and a reason to love oneself a bit more. Babies don’t hold grudges or leave socks scattered about—they require care, but the joy they bring is incomparable. That pure, unconditional love they radiate is something you can only receive from a little one without the burdens of a curfew or chores.
I find myself longing to turn back the clock, desperately trying to reclaim the days spent with my babies, to remember how it felt to snuggle a sleepy little one against my neck in the early morning hours while the rest of the household slumbered. I want to recall the anxiety of bathing that tiny first baby, fearing he might slip from my grasp. I want to remember the exhilarating moments of hearing, “It’s a boy!” or “It’s a girl!”—those times when I instinctively felt I already knew them, even before those little lines appeared on the pregnancy tests.
I want to relive the joy of watching them dance, sing, and play pretend, completely free of self-doubt. I want to feel the warmth of rocking a baby girl on my hip, her heartbeat steady against my hand, while soothing her tears and teaching her about the world. But as much as I crave to remember, the clarity eludes me.
“You’re making memories!” people would say during those exhausting grocery runs or the hours spent mindlessly pushing a swing at the park. I probably tell that to my younger friends embarking on their parenting journeys. Deep down, they understand that while their days feel long and monotonous, the years will fly by faster than they can imagine.
But that notion of memories! “You’ll cherish all the memories!” they cheer. However, the memories we create aren’t all neatly categorized as time goes on. Some are jagged and raw; others clash with how our children recall them (which often takes us by surprise). Yet, there are those standout moments, vivid and sharp, that we can revisit at any time. Just hit rewind.
Still, the day-to-day routines—the baths, bedtimes, and endless readings of “Hop on Pop” or “Brown Bear, Brown Bear,” along with countless mac and cheese dinners—blur together like a fog I can’t seem to navigate. I sift through boxes of printed photos (yes, I’m from the pre-digital era) capturing an entire childhood, and I see it all. It was real, and we lived it. Camping trips, amusement parks, birthdays, sleepovers, friends, family, beloved pets, and favorite toys—they’re all preserved in my memories, though I didn’t keep a blog or journal back then. We recorded videos and clicked photos, so we have many wonderful memories stored away.
Yet, the haze of those 21 years is unsettling. I genuinely thought I would hold onto more details. Sometimes, I worry that I’m losing my memories, one faded snapshot at a time.
Just give me that baby—my baby, either one of them. If only I could relive a day with my baby girl nestled in my arms or my baby boy laughing until he gasped for breath. I assure you, I would remember—I truly would. I just want to press rewind once more.
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In summary, the longing for those baby days is a bittersweet reminder of the joy and love that children bring into our lives. Though memories fade, the desire to relive those moments remains ever strong.