You know what nobody told me before stepping into parenthood?
How your children can become entirely different individuals in the blink of an eye.
It happens so swiftly that you scarcely have time to say goodbye to the versions of them that have slipped into the past.
You find yourself becoming the keeper of memories they may never fully recall or know at all. Holding onto parts of them that they may never come to know.
I can still vividly remember the time when my now five-year-old daughter was nine months old and reached for a Cabbage Patch Doll at the store. I handed it to her, and she was instantly attached.
A bond that continued for the next year or so, during which she affectionately dubbed it “Bebe.”
This past weekend, as we went through a round of toy rotation and donations, I stumbled upon a basket of forgotten baby dolls, and there, buried at the bottom, was Bebe.
A pang of sadness washed over me as I realized that we hadn’t played with baby dolls in quite some time, and Bebe had quietly disappeared over time.
When I showed my daughter, she saw it as an old and familiar toy, oblivious to the fact that she had once christened it and cradled it like a real baby.
The memories of her tears when she had to have her Bebe and countless kisses it received had vanished.
But for me, those memories remain vivid. That doll served as a poignant reminder of my sweet and spirited little baby—the one who could be gentle and soft, yet unleash a shrill scream that filled a room.
I thought of her adorable pout that was irresistible, and her love for dancing and bobbing her head to music that was infectious.
She was my little one who laughed and smiled more than any baby I’d ever known.
Some of those parts are still part of her, thank goodness not the screaming, but really she’s so different. She has evolved. Her personality has flourished, and her independence has grown by leaps and bounds. She remains loving and kind, but has also developed a fierce and confident spirit.
After school, she showers her friends with hugs and revels in social interactions. Her laughter remains as infectious as ever, and she never misses a chance to be silly.
My love for her remains as unwavering as it was back then, but all at the same time, I miss that little one.
Nobody warned me that I would ache for the past versions of my kiddos, and how hard it is to cling to those fleeting moments as life speeds forward on its winding path.
Now, my children are eight and five, and the toddler phase is fading away. I find myself longing for those days of giggles and baby dolls. And tomorrow, I’m certain I’ll yearn for the children I have today.
I carry the memories of who they once were and the journey that has led them to where they stand today. Maybe that is the essence of being a mom.
I may not ever know my children better than they know themselves, but I am blessed with the opportunity to embrace and cherish every version of them.
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