Time Flies

You hear these two words all the time, especially after becoming a first-time mom, like a promise, "It will all go faster from here, honey," and you know what? They are right, no matter who "they" are. But here is the thing: we can conceptualize the idea, but we can't quite wrap our heads around its actual meaning. We shrug and think, "Yeah, yeah, time flies." At least I did.

When I gave birth, it was such a lonely time. Giving birth places you into a unique position — if you haven't gone through it yourself, it’s hard to understand it. Some things in life must be lived to be known, not described, and giving birth is one of them. My son had colic, and I was badly depressed. It was the first time in my life that I didn't feel like talking to anybody. The world felt distant.

On top of everything, we had to stay longer at the hospital. He was born with a bit of a temperature, so he had to stay under observation until it was gone. The extended stay did not help my mental state at all. The nurses could see that I was not doing well, so between his fever and my state, I ended up staying a total of eight days in the hospital. Maybe it had to do with the fact that I knew I was going to do this by myself (but that's a story for another time), or maybe it was the hormones. But the fact is, in that moment, trapped in that hospital room, I wished my son were five years old already. I wanted to fast-forward through it all.

Yet, amidst all that darkness, there was one saving grace: I felt an instant connection to him, right away, as if we had already met in another life. I looked down at his tiny face and thought, Oh yes, that's Liam. How could I have forgotten you? He felt so familiar, a total sense of déjà vu.

That instant bond was a massive victory for a child who came into this world completely unplanned. And yet, even though he wasn't planned, I had wished and dreamed for him years before he was ever conceived.

Now that he is nine, I wish I could go back to that hospital room and harvest those moments. I miss it so much.

And I know that in nine more years, I will miss these moments just as much. So I made a decision: to spend more time with him, to really get to know each other, to watch and learn together. Six weeks ago, we left Los Angeles to explore the world. But more on that next week.

Yes, sure, there is a sense of relief and ease in my life now because he is so independent. There are no milk bottles to think about, no strollers to carry, and no afternoon naps to schedule our entire day around. He can also tell me if something is wrong or how I can be a better mom. I often check in with him because, like every mother out there, I have my limitations. And sometimes, you know, those feel like the Himalayas of limitations.

But I still miss those times. Do you?