I often think back to those simple moments we shared. We would sleep in as long as we liked, enjoying breakfast on the living room floor, and then spontaneously venture out for a stroll in the refreshing spring air. I’d bundle you up in the baby carrier, both of us snug in my oversized coat, as I pointed out the names of the trees or we imagined clouds shaped like snowmen, unicorns, or fluffy whipped cream.
And how could I forget our search for the moon, your favorite? We affectionately referred to it as the “day moon.” Do you remember that?
Once we returned home, we would snuggle up on the couch, chatting away, before diving into a book, completing a puzzle, or drawing together — just the two of us in our cozy little apartment, with nowhere to rush off to and no distractions. A mother and her toddler, inseparable and immersed in a simple yet profound love.
Of course, I know I’m glossing over the more challenging aspects of those times, like your epic toddler meltdowns and your fierce independence. You rarely played alone, leaving me with little time to breathe. I also remember those sleepless nights, where you woke often, and how overwhelmed I sometimes felt.
I’ve even blocked out that intense summer when you were two and a half, a time when I struggled with late-onset postpartum anxiety and faced daily panic attacks. But I’ve moved beyond that now. What remains are those cherished memories, and they stir a deep longing within me. I miss those days. I miss us.
I recognize that what I have now is everything I ever wished for: two wonderful boys, both of whom still love to curl up on my lap and savor the little joys of life, like gazing at the moon or admiring a breathtaking sunset. Each of them offers me those special moments, growing into kind and intelligent young men who will undoubtedly contribute to the world in meaningful ways.
Yet, life feels markedly different now. You are growing up, and I know you don’t rely on me as much anymore. Your bond with your brother is beautiful, and it’s clear you couldn’t imagine life without him.
Our days are busier now. Sleeping in is a rare luxury, and breakfast on the floor has been replaced by hurried meals in front of the TV before school. When you come home, I often find myself preoccupied with work, chores, reminding you about homework, urging your brother to tidy up his never-ending messes, and preparing for the next day.
Love and connection still thrive in our lives, but things have changed. Our world no longer revolves solely around each other as it once did. You will never have all of me again the way you did back then. While the fullness of our lives is rewarding and inspiring, it sometimes feels like a loss.
When I was expecting your brother, I harbored a hidden fear — the fear of losing what we had. It weighed on me, even as I yearned for the new addition to our family. But once he was born, that fear dissipated. I fell in love with him instantly and realized there was enough love to go around. I called it my “boy love,” a boundless affection that remains.
Even so, I occasionally find myself yearning for those earlier days, questioning how something so intimate and special can fade so quickly. The bond between a mother and her first child is irreplaceable. How can one truly reconcile the loss of that connection, that deep attentiveness, those moments when time felt suspended, and your firstborn was your entire universe?
Perhaps you never fully recover from such losses. They may not haunt you daily, but they linger nonetheless, capable of breaking your heart in an instant. Motherhood can feel like a series of these losses, and I’m learning to adapt to that reality.
Yet, I cherish the smallest details that return to me without warning, like the sight of your golden curls perfectly framing your face or how you used to ask to be carried to bed, giggling like a little sack of potatoes while your small hand stroked my lips.
In those fleeting moments, the nostalgia can be overwhelming, and I find myself wishing for those times again. I still miss it. I still miss us. Perhaps that feeling will never fade.
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In summary, motherhood is filled with bittersweet memories, evoking both joy and longing as children grow and relationships evolve. The early days are cherished, but the love expands to accommodate new family dynamics.