All my life, I’ve believed certain things. I’ve acted certain ways. I’ve earned certain titles, decided upon certain routines, and adopted certain principles. Like all women before me, I sculpted these philosophies, anxieties, aspirations, and quirks into a mold that fit my new role as “Mom.”
So when all of that suddenly came crashing down, I expected some kind of, I don’t know… warning? Celebration? Fireworks? Monumental discovery?
But, there was no earth-shattering realization that altered my perceptions. Instead, the Great Thought Shift of 2016 came in the form of two tiny white bumps.
I just stared at them. There they were, poking out from my son’s gums. On the bottom. Right in the middle.
It’s funny because I had been praying for those teeth to appear. After countless comments about how my son was getting “a little too old for no teeth,” I had suddenly become an obsessed gum-watcher.
Given that information, it stands to reason that I should have been excited about those two little spikes, right? But, I wasn’t. In fact, I immediately broke down and spiraled into a several-hours-long fit of depression and anger. See – those teeth mean my baby is growing. He’s getting big, he’s changing. Soon, he won’t even be a baby anymore.
Unable to sleep that night, I did a lot of thinking. I remembered a conversation I’d had with my husband when we sold our house and moved just a few weeks before. I had, like always, transformed into an emotional wreck who fed off structure and melted in the face of change. “I just made so many memories with him in our old house,” I had whined. “Okay, but think about how many memories he will make in our new house,” he’d reasoned.
Since my husband was asleep and I didn’t want to wake him up (again) with my emotional breakdown, I tried to think of how he would approach the whole teeth situation. He is, if you haven’t gathered, an optimist. I’m not.
So, I repeated his words. “Think about how many memories he will make in our new house.” He. Him. My son.
That’s when it hit me. This isn’t about me. I’m so scared of losing my baby to change that I’m losing him to time instead. While I’m busy obsessing about how he’s another month older and feeling sorry for myself, he’s still growing. And I’m missing it because I’m too distracted.
I realized that yes, he is getting teeth. And because of that, he’ll soon be able to enjoy the fine art of chocolate, macaroni and cheese, and breadsticks.
He will outgrow his clothes, but he’ll be able to wear the bigger, even cuter ones in his closet.
He will protest when I hold him, but he’ll learn how to do things for himself.
He will learn to stand and he’ll be able to see the world from new heights.
He will walk and get to explore the world around him.
He will talk and learn to express himself so his voice will be heard.
He will dress himself and gain a sense of identity in the process.
He will start school and he’ll make friends that may last a lifetime.
He will ride his bike without training wheels and he’ll learn to trust himself.
He will want to spend less time with me and he’ll get to know others.
He will learn to drive and celebrate his freedom.
He will get his first job and learn to be responsible.
He will graduate high school and gain a powerful sense of pride in his accomplishments.
He will go through hardships and learn to be strong.
He will fall in love and experience how beautiful it is to find your soulmate.
And maybe someday he’ll have children of his own and understand what it feels like to have your heart exist outside of your body.
Maybe then he’ll understand why those two little teeth caused me so much pain. And how, in the end, they changed my life.
Because instead of being sad about how my baby is changing, I’ve learned to be excited. Excited about how those changes will help him experience life and become a better person. Excited about the opportunities in front of him. And excited that I get to join the ride.
