“She’s getting so big.” A tear welled up in my eye.
My girls aren’t little babies anymore. They’re turning into toddlers. With wills and tempers. They’re starting to look like little people. And I’m sad.
I’m a mourner. I look back and mourn what’s passed. I could look forward and embrace what’s coming. I’m learning to do that. But undoing decades of looking back takes longer than I’d like.
It’s hard to create what I want in the world, in my life and in my family when I’m looking back at what’s lost. My energy is going to what is no more. That energy is much more powerful going toward what can be.
I’ve seen so many parents look at our girls and wistfully say, “They’re so small. Mine aren’t that small anymore.” They miss having a little baby.
I see why we exist as a species now.
I thought they were crazy. I don’t anymore. We’re addicted to the baby stage, the months of having a precious, dependent creatures that can’t even sit up on their own. And so we have another one, we take another hit, to get that high.
I’m not saying we’re having more kids. But a month ago I would have said you were high if you suggested I’d be thinking about it. Now, I’m looking to get a little high again.