Only a Decade

A post I recently shared on Instagram said this:

“Who else’s son (or daughter) can barely fit on your mama lap anymore...? It keeps dawning on me we have a decade until this kid turns eighteen. Doesn’t a decade seem SO short when you think of it regards to our kids growing up?! Anyway, Pierson is going on an adventure with his dad today and I’m just holding on to his sweet self as long as I can. They are going on a fishing trip with a professional fisherman, staying in a cabin, and I just know they are going to create the best summer dad and son memory together. * Hang tight to your babes, friends. Soon their feet will dangle off your lap and holding them won’t be as easy!* ❤️”

Lots of other mamas shared their hearts with me there; all agreeing the years have gone much too fast. Our Pierson Clive turned 8 on June 15 and I am still in disbelief. I’ll never forget laboring with him, bringing him home from the hospital, and the precious newborn moments we had. Eight years of this boy…EIGHT! On his birthday I turned to my husband and said, “We only have a decade left until he’s an adult….”

Yeah, yeah I know…18 is very much still a teenager in many ways, but you know it’s that weird mix: teen + adult + brand new person ready to take on life full speed. I mean heck, when I look back at my OWN years, I was married at the age of 20! Two years past 18?!

I wonder where he will want to go to college..I wonder what he will want to be..I wonder what he will accomplish..I wonder what he will fail at..I wonder if he’ll still need me.

I’m sure you’ve had those thoughts too. I say it all the time and I’m not the one who came up with this phrase: “The days may be long but the years are short.” Only a decade, P Man…you’re growing so fast.

You are a brave and kind soul, Kiddo. Right now you are OBSESSED with ‘creatures,’ big and small, the creepier and crawlier the better. Recently you brought me a LIVE spider IN TO MY KITCHEN, and I quickly applauded you and asked you kindly to take him back OUT. You are my frog catcher, fishing lover, sweet, sweet son. In a couple of months, you start third grade, and I just can’t believe it. The end of your second grade year was pretty robbed by a pandemic, but you took it in stride and did amazing, as we knew you would. We are proud of you, cheer for you, and daily ask the Lord to keep you close to Him. Sure eight looks great on you, but my mama heart will always be a little sad that you are getting SO big. I wonder where the baby boy who fit so perfectly on my lap went…and then I look at you, and you’re right here. Growing, changing, maturing, laughing, loving, learning, and I love each and every single stage with you.

Let Go

The moment you as a mother realize that your child is really and truly no longer a baby, well, that's not anything that you can plan for. You don't know when or where or how it will dawn on you, until it does; a gust of wind escapes your lungs and you are suddenly made aware.

We tried to get pregnant for a few months and we were very blessed that the timing with our son was perfectly spot on. The faint blue lines, the ones that made me ask my sister-in-law to please come over and check for me, those little sign told me, "You are going to be a mother." For nine months I watched my belly grow, I felt the kicks and squirms and sharp elbow jabs deep in my rib cage. I saw him somersault and hiccup and while he was tucked inside my ever-growing stomach, I had no idea that someday he would say to me, "Mom, let go!" 

Towards the end, if he stopped moving or was quiet late at night, I would anxiously wake my husband and ask him to please pray aloud that God would give me a sign that our baby was okay. It always worked and within seconds, our dear boy would move or roll over again, probably thinking, "Would you people leave me ALONE?"

From the very beginning, my heart was his. Crawling and the first steps, the first taste of solid food, the baby giggles that turned to laughter, the one word phrases that made us smile so big... I never realized that during those growth spurts, those stages of transitioning from baby to boy, my heart would just keep expanding. And that suddenly, the wind would be knocked out of my chest as he jumped into the in-ground pool, without a life vest, as he shouted, "Do it again!" As quickly as it started, those baby years and all the things that come with them, it suddenly ended--

those baby years.  

Over. Gone. A flash before my eyes. A faint dream that grasps for the memories and moments when he needed me the most. 

Who is this kid? And how did it happen? My hands frantically reached for him under the water, quickly I pulled him up for air thinking that of course, he would need it. But he didn't. He didn't need me and what I thought was him choking was actually just laughter. "Mom, let go!" he exclaimed as he swam one end to the other, down and back, doggy paddling around and around and around--

without me. 

I remember the first time he got into a pool. He was a month old and he just slept, totally peacefully, as we slowly pushed him around on a float. And then when he got in my parents pool, and he would wrap his arms around my neck as I sang him songs. From zero, to one, to two, to three, and now to four. His legs are getting so long, his length makes up more than half of me. His weight is hard for me to lift from his carseat, it's getting more difficult to carry him up the stairs. My hips that carried him with ease for so long, are quickly reminding me that it won't be much longer that he will fit there.

Everyone tells you that it happens so fast but when you're in the trenches of motherhood, tired and going on very little sleep, when they're still so tiny in front of you, all you think is, "Shut it, Lady. I'm embracing it the best that I can." Or at least, I suppose that's what I always used to think, when elderly people walked past my screaming toddlers as I sprinted through aisles at the grocery store. 

His daddy is 6'4'' and with me only 5'2,'' it's very obvious my son (and probably daughter) will tower over me very soon. So right now, while he still [awkwardly] fits on my hip and he still begs for me each night to put him to bed, I will embrace these days. Even if he doesn't want his mama to carry him like a baby around his grandparents swimming pool, at least he does still want me to stand on the sideline cheering, "Good BOY! Great job!" as he makes that giant splash. While I'm positive there will many more opportunities for him to declare his independence, my heart will never ever, no matter what, be letting go. 

From Baby to Boy

Big fat tears streamed down his sad face. I had scolded him a few minutes prior because he had just spent the last fifteen minutes whining, following me around, and repeating a request that I had already said, 'no' to, repeatedly. I asked him to please go upstairs, to sit down for a minute and take a break. When I came to talk to him and saw that face, I stretched my arms out wide.

"Buddy, what is wrong?" I asked. 
A genuine voice answered me and he said, "I want to be best friends with you, Mom. I need to be near you."

This child, my first-borne. The one who turns four next month and will say good-bye to his toddlerhood...and right now, his biggest worry is that we aren't best friends.

"Baby, Mommy was really tired of you whining when I had asked you to stop. Daddy and I are working hard to clean the house and I gave you plenty of other options for fun. I will always be your best friend, but I also need you to listen," I responded. He hugged my neck tightly and I breathed in his familiar scent. The top of his head still smells like 'baby' to me--his soft skin still brings me back to his newborn days. He is so much of what 'home' is for me. But he's gone from an infant who relied on me solely for nourishment and growth, to a child whose heart longs for an actual friendship.

There are some days that the requests wear me out. Come bed time, this mama is more than ready to take a hot shower, change into pajamas, and decompress however I want to.
-One more drink, Mom.
-Let's read just one more book.
-I need another hug and kiss. No, I need ANOTHER hug and kiss!
-Come pick me up, Mom.
-Mommy put me down.
-Tickle my back, Mom. No, tickle my arm. Wait, tickle my nose. (What?!)

Guess what I not only know, but I inwardly wrestle with just thinking about? The inevitable truth that this toddler will grow into a young boy, who will transition to a teen, and then an adult. Chances are, he'll become a husband and later a father. Everyone promises, "You'll love every single stage!" I believe you. But he won't fit so perfectly in my arms anymore. And then what? (Scratch that, recently I tried to read to him in the rocking chair that I used to nurse him from, and his long and gangly legs drooped over the sides and his body stretched more than half-way down mine. We moved to his bed and I thought, 'When did you get this BIG?')

Pretty soon, he won't want me to put him to bed. He won't want me to read, because he'll be the one reading instead. The lullabies that I sing will eventually seem too childish, the sleepy-time glasses may at some point fade away. I won't be putting him into cute and cozy jammies. He will no longer demand to sleep with Lion. He won't beg me for another hug and kiss, he won't get his feelings so deeply hurt when I ask him to go to another floor of the house--he won't worry if his MOM is his best friend.

These days are fleeting and I'm still trying to convince myself that I will be okay as we move on to the next phases. His love for Little Einsteins and Curious George will be replaced with PG-13 movies and asking to go to the theatre with friends. His need to incessantly be by MY side will switch to a girlfriend's. It will be her hand that he'll want to hold and her phone ringing as soon as he comes in from school (where he will probably have just spent ALL day with her).

Each and every year has been encompassed with beautiful memories and stories. I prayed for my son before he was born and I promise to continue. I know that as time progresses, my heart somehow finds a way to love him more and more; so trust me, I believe you when you say that I will love it all. And on my hardest days, the ones that I want to hurry through his bedtime, enforce the 'one book' rule, and insist that his dad be the one to put him down--I will remember his voice:

"Mommy, we are best friends, remember?" 

Yes, sweet son, I will forever be your very best friend.