Never Gonna Let You Down

I hate it when the Internet makes me think.

What’s even worse is when it makes me feel.

This is what happened a couple weeks ago. I was scrolling through Facebook when I came across a link with a Buzzfeedy vibe to it, boasting 27 facts that are sure to blow my mind. Ever the sucker for any article with an odd number assigned to it, I nibbled at the bait.

Two weeks later, I don’t remember any of the facts that the article included in its rundown except one.

There was a time when your parents set you down and then never picked you back up again.

Well, huh. Way to nail me right in the center of my heart, Internet.

Cee is now squarely two and a half years old, a little lady of the world. There have been high and low points during the last five months since we’ve moved and I went back to work. She went through a phase of being painfully shy and intensely wary of anyone other than me, B, and her grandmothers, and for a couple months I was really concerned. “Scarred for life” was a phrase that rattled around in my mind for awhile. But she’s coming out the other side of it and is now enjoying all life has to offer with a zeal that is reserved for us to whom the world is new. Sometimes I’ll come home from work at the end of the day and she and I will go through the bajillion pictures that I took of her when she was a baby. While I know that in the grand scheme of things she is still a baby now, I will have to cock my head a certain way and linger over certain pictures for a moment to identify that the girl who sits in my lap is the same one in the photos.

It’s all moving so fast.

For her entire life, B and I have told her roughly 9,000 times a day how much she is loved. Now, all of a sudden she’s returning that love with kisses and bear hugs. “I’m gonna miss you!,” she’ll call to me when I’m leaving for work in the morning. It breaks my heart in the best possible way to have my affection reciprocated.

There’s give and take to our relationship now. Where a few months ago it was like pulling teeth to get her to stand still long enough for me to give her a quick kiss before bed, she will now put her tiny arms around me in an embrace and linger long enough for me to smell her sweet head. She has empathy and, to some degree, knows that I thrive on her human touch. I love feeling her weight when I pick her up and carry her. It’s the weight of a life I helped create and who is now fully-invested in her glorious surroundings.

And now I’m reminded that there is going to be an inevitable moment when I set her down and never pick her back up again. Either she will become too big or I will become too weak, likely both. It breaks my heart, but if anything it makes me recognize how special this time we’re enjoying right now is.

And, honestly, that my time is better-used holding her than it is reading dumb articles on the Internet.

me and c

NaEmPoMo resizeThis is the sixth installment of National Emily Posts Month (NaEmPoMo). Connect on Facebook and Twitter @thewaitingblog if you just can’t get enough. (Do do do do do do do.)

24 comments

  1. But if no one read any dumb articles, we wouldn’t get to read your cute posts or my stupid stories! :)

  2. ” It breaks my heart in the best possible way to have my affection reciprocated.” Yes, yes, yes. That is so IT. That dichotomy of parenthood. I just got home from having a little mommy-daughter special time with G at the mall. How much longer is she going to want to go to the mall with me…and hold my hand like she did several times tonight? And now I am just sad that she is already to that “never pick her up again” point. I can’t physically do it.

    I’m going to go cry now. But beautiful post anyway…and beautiful picture of the two of you.

    1. Also, based on your title I feel I must do this…

      Consider yourself RickRolled. :)

  3. “It’s all moving so fast” came home to roost last night when my eldest (now age 16) whose phone I confiscated this week due to his mis-belief that nobody could crack his passcode in one try (way to go, MOM!!), finally announced on schedule according to adolescent developmental timetables, “YOU JUST CAN’T UNDERSTAND!!”

    And, as if on cue, I responded, “You’re right – I can’t. This is all new to me. You’ll just have to make sure I have your passcode to Snapchat, Poof and all other Terrible Apps, at all times. And remind me to email your AP History teacher to make sure she understands that you are doomed to receive an F because I confiscated your phone, and it’s all my fault because you have no other way to receive syllabus updates, nevermind that you have a Macbook, a caveman land line and see her every day.”

    Oh, relish the days of their youth, Mrs. Em! Great post!!

  4. Damnit, this post totally made me cry. Ugh. Heartache. Ugh.

  5. Well now you’ve got me all teary eyed and everything. My baby girl is not a year old yet so I’ve got some way to go before I put her down for good 😊

  6. […] was going to write out the saga of my broken furnace tonight, but then I read this gut-wrenching blog post and not I am crying some really ugly hot tears and I feel like someone ripped my heart out of my […]

  7. Time goes way to fast to worry about such nonsense. My kids turned into young adults overnight, so hug…love…hold as long as you can. This will make them come back for more when they’re older.

  8. This post made me so teary. Motherhood to me is having your heart broken a million times, over and over again — but that process only makes the heart stronger and more capable to contain that overflowing mama love.

    And my daughter is almost 8, she’s almost as tall as me, weighs 60 pounds and I STILL lift her! I will continue to lift her and hug both my kid until I die.

  9. Then there comes the time when they try to pick you up…and the time they CAN pick you up and you squeal like a little girl. I can still lift my daughter, but not my son. He’s 135 lbs! I carried him so much until he was about four that I thought he was a vest. Sometimes I miss that, and then I remember squealing like a little girl and I smile. (You almost got me to cry, you!)

  10. It DOES all go by so incredibly fast. Life should be like a DVD. I should be able to go back to a certain point just to see it again.

  11. Oh, jeez. I”m five months pregnant right now, and I”m trying to imprint the feel of her kick on my belly and preserve the precious safety she’s experiencing now, the safety I can never give her again. Bawl.ing.

  12. Awww that’s so sweet 😊😊😊. I can only imagine the bond a mother and daughter share or what its like to be a parent.

  13. Dang, this is what comes from not reading blog posts when they come in… Kelly beats me to the Rick A video! ;-) We continue to post on opposite ends of this process, my friend. I just posted one that is several years down the road, but now… now I’m wondering, when was it that I put him down? Oh, that one really hurts my heart. Beautiful writing, as always.

    PS) having gotten time with you, face to face, this summer… now I miss you more. Really. xox

  14. I can still carry my 3rd grader to her bed after she falls asleep on the couch in the living room. I still think that counts. They get so big, so fast.

  15. Sometimes I can’t wait until my little duck can hug me and say I love you.
    And then I try to remind myself to love the tiny little duck that he is now.

  16. I never thought of it that way before! I remember the last time I went into my daughter’s room to read her a night time story but I don’t remember the last time I picked her up. So sad!

  17. Well, this post just kicked me in the feels. I’m going to go home after work today and snuggle up with my 14 month old. That made me so sad.

  18. […] was reading a post from the blog, “The Waiting,” about a fact she saw on one of those dumb lists we can never resist.  The fact was, […]

  19. It’s funny how the world turns…

    In 2003 my parents came to visit me in Hawaii. My Dad was 74 at the time. We hopped to another island where he insisted we go swimming in the ocean. That was something I really remember from my childhood – annual summer vacations to the beach where my Dad would hold my hand as we walked into the oftentimes rough surf, him having to pick me up out of the water when the waves had knocked me down.

    This time we were on rocky ground – literally. The volcanic rock around Kauai is slick and covered with dangerous holes. I was afraid he would fall or catch his foot and break an ankle. So I stood in front of him holding his arms (not his hands) and kept him steady in the rough surf. At that moment two things happened. One was something that occurred to me in my head: I realized for the first time that my dad was ‘old’. The second was something I said to him: “Dad, we’ve reversed roles.” It makes me cry to think of it.

    You are creating precious memories for the both of you. And one day Cee will hold YOU, and you will realize, “We’ve reversed roles.”

    Blessings,
    C

  20. I am ever amazed by parenthood. Each phase is its own heartache and victory all at the same time. It’s so easy to get caught up in the joy of what is new, that we forget there is also grief from that which is lost.

  21. […] first steps, first solid food, even taking their first poop in the toilet.  A post by Emily at The Waiting, reminded me how easy it is for the lasts to slip by […]

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