1 hour ago
Wednesday, February 2, 2011
A Time to Hold
I intended to write about potty training today until I picked up my little boy and felt inspired to go another direction.
My little guy needs me. He needs me so much that he cries if any other person tries to hold him, including his dad. This past week he has been sick. Really sick. This has only intensified his desire that I hold him all the time. In a recent conversation with a friend, she remarked that it must be difficult to have a child who refuses to be comforted by anyone other than me. I can't remember my response but I don't think I adequately expressed how I truly feel about this situation. Call this my written response.
When Emily was a just born and tiny baby I knew I wanted to cherish every moment I had with her. At that time, Ben and I were both attending school full-time. Our days were filled with homework and parenting duties and I often felt I spent more time doing the latter rather than the former. At one point, after bemoaning my situation incessantly inside my head, I felt it was time to stop complaining and truly enjoy every moment I spent with Emily rather than crying that I didn't have more. I also decided to cherish all her stages--good and bad--and not spend time wishing she were older or more mobile or could talk.
Embracing my new philosophy, I found delight in her day-to-day activities and did not despair as she continued to grow (mentally not physically) at an alarming rate.
This thinking has continued with Andrew. Even though it does feel inconvenient at times to have him attached to my hip, I remember that he won't always want me to hold him. There will come a day when he might push me away. When my importance will diminish as he enters that vast world of pre-teen and teenagedom. And then he will grow up, move away, and find [a different] love in another woman's arms.
So, right now I appreciate how much he loves and needs me. I relish the moments I have holding him close and smelling his delicious scent. I kiss his head, hands, and face and feel that familiar tug of deep and indescribable love for this child that my husband and I created together.
At the same time, as he continues to grow (he will be 2 this year!) I don't feel sad. I recognize the importance of maturity. I also know my place is to raise him, and his sister, to be responsible, virtuous, charitable, and many other things so they can one day be mindful adults and citizens of the world.
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