I remember being very little and hearing my grandma say that time goes faster and faster every year. At the time I envisioned adults' lives in fast forward, doing everything with such speed that they were literally racing around in a blur. I stood quietly and motionless amidst the commotion in my mind, trying to make sense of it and feeling a little scared.
Many years later, I still sometimes stand quietly and motionless trying to make sense of the commotion around me. It is possible, if just for mere moments, to s - t - o - p. I try to anchor moments in time, to force tiny neurons to keep hold of these snapshots so they may be recalled at will in times to come. Somewhere in there, between the differential diagnosis for hyponatremia and the location of baby girls' pink tights with the hearts on them, these moments lay in wait for the time they are needed.
4 years ago today, big girl was born. I'm officially changing her name from baby girl to big girl. I realized yesterday that she'll be starting kindergarden in just over a year. This revelation made me turn to my memories of her infancy and toddlerhood, seeking reassurance that the memories are still there waiting for me. I also lean on the memories and experiences of generations of women before me; women who have balanced the joy of helping babies grow with the sorrow of giving away baby clothes. So far, the scales are tipped in favor of joy. What a remarkable journey it is to be a mom.
I know now what grandma meant, and it's still scary to think of how many moments are being missed in this blurry world of mine. I try to write them down, take pictures of them, talk about them and remember them often. But mostly I try to eat them up whenever I can and enjoy this day, this time, this moment. Happy birthday, big girl.