Thank you for all your prayers, kind words, and well wishes. Musa is on the mend. The jaundice is slowly leaving his system and I can finally breathe though I know that with children there will always come moments when your heart feels chronically stuck in your throat.
There is so much to say but so little time what with the hectic schedule newborns put their mothers on and the challenges of breastfeeding and all that it entails. Hopefully over the course of the next few weeks I can share some of what’s on my mind, but I did want to note how staggering it is to become a mother of two. How much bigger your firstborn of toddling years becomes, seemingly ready overnight to head to college. And you realize that just that quick this newborn with eyes the size of Kansas will also grow up. And just like that they both will be off to college. We live in a neighborhood where 95% of the people have grown children who rarely visit. We’ve chatted with them, seen the photos framing their walls, shrines to the memories of the past, and when I hear the longing in their voices or take in their large empty houses it tears at me in a new way: Will my toddler who follows me room to room like a duckling, or the baby who grips my fingers tightly in his, will they simply grow up and away without a backward glance? I can’t imagine this, and yet surely these neighbors who devote untold hours to their gardens and surrogate their dogs for children couldn’t imagine it either.
Maybe its the ceaseless rainy clouds of Atlanta’s skyscape of late. Maybe its the hormones, but these are the thoughts coursing through me from time to time, attacking like waves over still water when I least expect it. Like waves I try to ride out the feeling and let the real truth settle over me like the grainy sediment that remains: I don’t know what the future holds but I do know that life is many things including a series of letting go. I can hold onto the sorrow portion of this bittersweet pill, or I can accept this eventual truth and focus on the moments before me. And right now? I have two little boys. They are their own people. They are also me. The most vulnerable part of me. The best part of me. Though my heart aches when I see my neighbors and the future that might come, today as I wade through dirty laundry and drink my third cup of tea in as many hours, I know one thing: Today, in this moment, I am very lucky.
Ever feel like this or is it just me and the hormones that are part and parcel of new motherhood? How do you find perspective or feel better about the eventuality of letting go while letting yourself live in the moment?