I’m Afraid of Forgetting These Little Years

I’m beginning to forget the earliest version of you.

Finer details that once took a place of pride in my mind are slipping through my fingers like tiny grains of sand.

Memories of you, of us, lie in wait as attempts to clench my brain shut all end in vain.

And it scares me. 

Because although your little cry, gummy smile, and divine scent still linger in the back of my mind, hints are required to recall them to the forefront.

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Days spent with you asleep on my chest, rocking, swaying, so you didn’t protest.

Moments I tried so desperately to be present for while impatiently counting down to the next.

The ones I muddled through so begrudgingly as I fought the need to rest my eyes.

Hours that morphed into weeks that then rolled into years.

An entire longed-for stage of life now fuzzy around the edges.

I’m beginning to forget the earliest version of myself. A period of time in which I was truly transformed from a woman to a new mother.

The vulnerability that left me exposed.

The uncertainty which drowned out my intuition.

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The hesitation which clouded every decision.

And it scares me.

Because even though she’s not who I am today, I’m still so proud.

Because that was our beginning.

Early days that shaped us both. Long days incorporating growth, change, and figuring out how we fit together now that you were outside of my belly, safely in my arms.

And now you’re grown.

So independent, so curious. Fierce to a fault. 

And so too have I. 

So strong, so capable. Full of confidence.

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No longer clawing my way through the fog of sleep deprivation but swimming in the depths of this crazy life.

We’re on a new venture.

The next stage of life which will inevitably bring forward a whole range of skills and challenges for us to learn.

And we’ll be OK.

Because we have each other.

Because together we are perfect.

Because being your mom is a privilege I’ll forever work on being the best at, for you.

Previously published on the author’s Facebook page