I am going to struggle to articulate this feeling that comes in pangs and waves, as I watch my children grow up. This feeling of - honestly - sadness, as the hours, the days and the years shutter-click by.
I mean, of course I am filled with amazement and joy as I watch these two incredible individuals unfurl before my eyes. Of course. But lately I find my heart stopping intermittently as I notice - really see just how fast my children are growing. I am eternally thankful for some kind of accidental wisdom I must have found (God only knows where) that allowed me to be free of "looking forward" to the next stage of development. I can honestly say that I wasn't ever waiting for what was supposed to happen next.
I have a crystal clear memory of myself holding tiny Lauryn in the rocking chair, she must have been... ? two weeks old, maybe? and I put my hand on her back and I was so fully Present with how she felt in my hands, on my shoulder - so tiny and new and fragile. I remember reading the words of the lullaby I had printed and taped to the chest of drawers as I sang to her (... Lavender blue, dilly dilly, lavender green...). I remember thinking, This moment, this ever so small person - will be gone in a flash.
And it is. It's gone.
Maybe I may seem like I'm being melodramatic. (And maybe I am, but this is my blog and I'll cry if i want to.) But now I look at this comparatively HUGE little girl and I feel sucker punched. I see her, I hear her, I feel her in my arms - dangling legs brushing my knees and I cannot believe it.
Seven years have passed. Just. Like. That.
Somehow, it doesn't feel as visceral with Ryan. I am still surprised and amazed at his rapid growth but I guess in some ways, he's baby hood was shadowed a bit by the business of also caring for my still small, toddler Lauryn so it doesn't have quite the same affect on me.
I think to myself, She's in her eighth year of life. A thought that stops time and spins the world around me so I need to touch something. I am so serious about this. I have to blog because I just don't hear any one experiencing this as deep down as I seem to be. Though to be fair to everyone else, it could just be a symptom of me being a drama monarch.
It just feels like I'm trying to take water from the well in my cupped hands.
What's the resolution here? More presence. I need to rekindle that deep awareness and sense of presence so I hope to add a few nano seconds to the experience of raising these people.
I am imagining holding my "big" little girl close and being as present with the words of The Velveteen Rabbit and her hearing it, as I was with the lyrics of the lullabies. Me sitting beside Ryan and building dragons ans blazers with the same 'being-there-ness" as I had nursing him.
And then one day when they are adults and we're all together, maybe sipping tea, maybe cooking, maybe just shooting the breeze, I can See them, and Feel them and Hear their tiny voices in all those memories that line the compartments of my heart. Knowing full well, that there is always room for more.