Babies don't keep

My firstborn baby is now 9, and this past week I've been looking through old pictures. Remembering, reminiscing. Even crying a little. As I look back, I'm flooded with gratitude for all the family and friends who gathered around us. You saw the panic in our eyes and told us we were doing great. You cooed over our baby, brought meals, cleaned our bathrooms. You made hot tea and scones and held the baby so we could sleep. When I was so tired I felt delirious, you told me this season wouldn't last forever. When I'd get worked up over the dirty house, the pudgy figure, the neglected everything-else, my Mom would hug me and say, "I know, honey." And then, gently, "Remember the poem?"

The cleaning and scrubbing will wait till tomorrow,
For children grow up, as I’ve learned to my sorrow.
So quiet down, cobwebs. Dust go to sleep.
I’m rocking my baby and babies don’t keep.

Of course, all the Moms and Dads who'd walked this path before us were right: babies don't keep.

I treasure every memory of holding my Jack in the dead of night, the only sound his breath at my breast as he nursed steadily in the dark. Every new thing he did: smiling, sitting up, crawling, talking, walking, and climbing every stick of furniture he could find. Every moment--glorious, messy, or rock-bottom--that taught me how to be his mother. He has been my teacher. He and Owen have taught me, moment by moment, mistake by mistake, how to be a mom. I don't regret a single thing I "gave up" to be present with my children. Not a fancier career, not a clean house, not travel or nicer stuff or more financial freedom or a stretch-mark-free belly or time to myself or anything else.

I see young parents around me now--the bags under their eyes, their puffed-up pride at their baby's newest trick or gassy smile--and I'm whisked back to that raw, precious time in our own life. Some of these parents I see are willing to slow their pace, put their ego aside, and rock their baby while the dust bunnies careen and their image of who they are takes a backseat. Some are resistant, pushing their children to grow up faster so they can chase the life they want. It isn't easy, being a parent. And it's even harder to do it with spiritual intention, with awareness and attunement. But the rewards are so deep, so plentiful and profound that words fail. I want to tell these frazzled, ecstatic parents what Mom told me, "I know, it's hard. And...babies don't keep."

With your encouragement, love, and support, you helped us cross the river to parenthood. Thank you to all of you--some pictured here, some not--for gathering around us and holding us in the net of your love. 

We are forever grateful.