When You Realize Your Babies Aren’t Babies Anymore

Motherhoodgraphic2014

DSCN7055

DSCN7056

DSCN7057

DSCN7059

DSCN7018

DSCN7020

DSCN7021

DSCN7022

DSCN7069

DSCN7070

DSCN7078

waterballoonsedit

There comes a time when you realize your babies aren’t babies anymore.

Remember when it first happened, mom? That moment you realized your baby was growing up before your eyes? You went to lift him out of the crib and suddenly he seemed much bigger than he did before nap time. You wondered what happened. How in the world did he get this big without me noticing?

Remember that first day you dropped her off at daycare, that first time you left her with a babysitter, that first time you left her at grandma and grandpa’s house overnight? All the days she’d lived flashed before your eyes. You wondered if things would ever be the same. When you returned, she seemed bigger, a little more independent than she did before you dropped her off.

Remember those open houses and first days of school when you met his teacher for the first time? It took all you had to keep those tears from flowing down your face, didn’t it, mama? The way the teacher kneeled down right at his level, the way she showed him around the classroom, the way he peeked inside his desk and locker for the first time, it made you realize he was a big boy now, all grown up, ready for anything big boys do.

Remember the most ordinary of days, when your baby plopped down on your lap and you realized she wasn’t a baby, she wasn’t a toddler, and she wasn’t even much of a little girl anymore? Her feet were nearly as big as yours, and she’d been asking when she could wear a sports bra. It was a little easier to envision her all grown up now; you caught a glimpse of what she’ll be like when she’s driving, dating, going to college.

Remember the day you got that letter from school saying it’d soon be “the day?,” the day they had “the talk?” And he came home with a brochure stating in clear English that he’d be turning into a man soon? And you noticed some of the girls his age are wearing bras and it scared you to death? Ya, that.

Remember the moment you realized you’re going to spend the rest of your life realizing your babies aren’t babies anymore?

How in the world do I have a son old enough to drive a car…by himself?!

And why, oh why, do I suddenly find myself the mother of a teenage girl who’s going to prom?

Where did the time go? My baby’s off to college. And now, instead of baking after-school chocolate chip cookies, I’m sending care packages.

And please tell me, how in the world am I supposed to not break down sobbing when my baby girl stands in front of the mirror with a wedding dress on? Or when my son stands at the end of the aisle smiling at his bride-to-be?

Oh, sweet day. Where did the time go? Those grandbabies, so sweet and precious. How is it possible that my baby’s having a baby? What’s a grandmama to do but love on those little ones to the moon and back? Because who doesn’t love a second chance to love on your babies all over again?

Time. It goes on.

Love. It never ends.

We wonder if we’ll ever get the days back. We won’t.

For most of us, our babies aren’t babies anymore.

But we love on them dearly, even so, even more.

Because we’re moms for such a time as this.

We suffer, we sacrifice, we ache and we cling.

We love and we dote, we treasure and we sing.

For our babies aren’t babies anymore. But our babies, they’ll always be.

Amy

*This post is part of a month-long series titled Motherhood Unraveled. To read more from this series, click here and read to the bottom where all the posts are listed and linked!

  1. Tara Dorn says:

    Oh I so loved this Motherhood Unraveled series, Amy! I can relate to them all! This one definitely struck a chord! My first baby turned 10 in May and man oh man was that hard! They sure aren’t babies anymore, but like you said, my babies they’ll always be. Reminds me of the book, I’ll Love you Forever. =)

  2. Monica Anderson Palmer says:

    yep….crying!

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *

This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.