Tuesday, November 1, 2011

You Already Know How This Will End

I stopped in to see my pizza man the other day and introduce him to Edie (note to self: make a greater effort to see actual friends), and he told me he remembers his oldest when she was Edie-sized, and now she's 14. He told me it goes by fast and that I should take photos and video. Everyone tells me it goes by fast.

So I take photos of her sleeping. Of her awake. I have a 30 second video of her crying. Of James making her dance. But, really, that's not anything. What I want is for someone to tell me how to remember her face in the streetlight of 3am when it feels like just the two of us in the whole world. Of her still weight as she sleeps on my chest. How it feels to crook my arm around her whole body. That's what I want to remember.

This constant reminder that what I have is fleeting makes me nervous. It makes me sad--now. There can't be any greater sin than missing something you have, now, in your arms, or in her seat, waiting to be picked up. But what do I do? Will I regret any moment I take to check my email, or blog, or shower, or take a walk by myself?

I don't miss college because I feel sure that I got what I wanted out of it. I made it my job to have fun; to really experience my experience. When I got pregnant, I knew that however my life changed, I had not misspent my childless years. I had lived, and gallivanted, and done what I wanted to do. I want to look back on Edie's babyhood the same way.

I just . . . I don't know how.


  1. I love this. I remember feeling this same way.

    It does go fast, but keep in mind that there is going to be MORE awesome things happening each day as the time goes by. You'll miss her being small for one day and she'll say "Mom" and you'll melt all over again.

    Just mug (meaning: kiss, cuddle, love, hold, snuggle) on her every single time you get the urge to and you won't feel like the time you took to shower or read or email or blog or go on a trip without her is wasted.

  2. Well said.

    I already don't know how Kate felt and looked 6-8 weeks ago. I already feel sad about fleeting days that have not yet happened. I constantly wonder when Aidan got so big, smart and a little too wise for his age.

    I remember events but not the feel of it or their subtle expressions. Perhaps I make up for it by trying to constantly create new experiences.

  3. Seems like you're doing a pretty good job. Write it down, man. Write it down.

  4. You don't forget. That's just it. I was telling my husband just the other day that no matter how many pictures I took of my oldest daughter, none of them actually looked like her. Those images, smells, the sensations of your baby squirming or not squirming against your body never leave you. Much like you will never forget what it's like when she moved inside of you. These are phantoms we women carry with us for years. Sometimes I wish I could forget so that I wouldn't want it so badly again.

  5. from what i can tell, you're doing a pretty kick-a job so far.

  6. I agree with Jen and Annie. You're doing a bitchin' job.

    The way you capture these feelings, that are so familiar with regards to each one of my kids, makes me sad that I don't have them in my own words in the moment I felt them. But that's why you have a gift and a blog.

    So keep writing my friend and maybe I'll be able to buy a copy for my kids some day and paste their names over Edie's.

  7. Not really, that would be creepy.