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“You’re gonna miss this.”

I can’t tell you how many well-intentioned mamas told me that.

Every time I walked into a grocery store with my arms full of babies and diapers and snot.

Every time I snuck into the church nursery with my screaming newborn.

Every time I let out an exhausted sigh when I couldn’t get the baby to latch under that dadgum nursing cover.

“You’re gonna miss this, someday.”

And I tried to believe it. I thought, I can’t imagine that I’ll miss this . . . but everyone says I will, so I suppose I will. I assumed that one day I’d forget how hard those first few months were, with the sleepless nights, the acid-reflux, the gas, the thousands of loads of spit-up-covered laundry, the tension between two sleep-deprived spouses. 

I remember thinking in the midst of one midnight wake-up, while the third and final infant fought sleep and I fought back tears, I can’t wait until he can just tell me what’s wrong. I hate the baby stage. And then I remember chiding myself, Don’t wish these months away. You’ll miss it someday.

Well. I’m here to tell you, friends. Nope.

I didn’t forget. And I don’t miss it. Not one bit. 

Now, don’t get me wrong. I’m glad I went through it. I wouldn’t wish it away, because the bonds I fused with each of my kids during those first 12 months make all the difference in who we are now, both together and separately. I would take all the midnight trips to the ER, all the doses of gas drops, all the cries through the baby monitor, because I know they formed a trust, an abiding love between us that can’t be undone.

And there were also a lot of things about that first year I loved. Like the sweet snuggles and the crossed-eyes. I loved all the firsts: the first latch, the first smile, the first solid food that inevitably found its way into ears and nostrils and belly buttons. I loved when they were small enough to be wrapped up against me, their very favorite place to be, and I could feel their tiny fingers scratch against my chest. I especially loved those first few weeks when they were still “the best baby ever” and rarely cried and slept so much I started wondering if something was wrong. 

Sure, I loved parts of it. But do I miss it? Heck to the no.

Because I LOVE the stage we are in now.

I love telling them to go put their shoes on and watching them actually do it.

I love telling them to go play outside and not having to supervise.

I love that they have actual words in their mouths that can explain what it is they are crying about.

I love not worrying about the “Not For Children Under Two” label.

I love telling them to get in the car and not having to buckle a single seatbelt, other than my own.

I love listening to them learn to read and ask questions about God and cars and rain and basically every single thing in sight.

I love this stage. 

So yes. This stage I will miss. I’ll miss it so much.

But that baby stage? Sorry guys. I don’t miss it one bit. 

Jordan Harrell

Jordan writes about the days with her three kids and wonderful husband to help her get through the days with her three kids and wonderful husband. She's really good at eating chocolate, over-analyzing everything, and forgetting stuff. In 2017, Jordan founded, a blog and boutique that serves as a ministry for coaches' wives. You can find her at jordanharrell.comFacebookInstagram, or Twitter.

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