03/06/2026
This. Is. It.
When my kids were babies, I used to pick them up from their crib and take a minute to sit in the rocking chair in their room ... to just hold them for a second before the day started.
To take in their tiny features.
Their miniature toes.
Their barely-there eyelashes.
Their tiny breaths that sounded like a miracle.
I loved soaking in the beauty of the newness of life while also silently processing that hard-to-wrap-my-head-around fact that I was responsible for that life.
I cherished those quiet moments in between the chaos of young motherhood.
Enter this morning.
I walked into my now-8th-grade-daughter's room to wake her up for school.
Despite her alarm going off loud enough that I'm sure the neighbor a few doors down had rolled out of bed because of it... she was still fast asleep right next to it. (A standard pre-7am scene in our home)
Typically, I turn off the alarm, give her a tap and say, "Babe, you have to get moving so you're not late," ... before I go on to wake up her brother, finish getting myself ready for the day and throw in an extra load of laundry on my way down to empty the dishwasher.
But today?
I paused.
Today, I found myself transforming back to that young mom who used to slow down and take it in ... sat quietly next to her on her bad while my mind flashed back to those years-ago moments of her as a tiny newborn in my arms.
I couldn't pick her up and hold her like I did before.
But I took in the beauty of what time comes in and creates.
I saw her toes that once fit in my hand now dangling off the edge of the bed.
Her eyelashes that used to be so faint... now fan out as a tunnel through which she sees a much bigger, heavier world than she did back then.
Her breaths a little heavier now... but still the miracle they were back then.
And me.
Still wrapping my head around the fact that I am responsible for guiding her through time.
And I just... took it in.
Because sometimes?
We don't realize how quickly the chapters change until we catch a quiet glimpse of the one we started with.
Sometimes all we hear are the alarms of looming deadlines,
The hum of the 11th load of laundry for the day,
The clanging of to-do list items trying to fight their way to the front of the day's line.
And we forget to just look at our babies.
Growing into their own life.
Their own world.
Still within your walls, but slowly gaining the wings to soar past them.
And sometimes the greatest gift we can give ourselves as a parent… is simply pausing long enough to honor all of it.
The baby you once held in your arms…
and the person they’re becoming right in front of you.
.. and the miracle that this fleeting journey with them really is.
