I went to a baby shower for a friend on Sunday. They are expecting a baby girl in a few short weeks. I watched her and her husband unwrap pink onesies and pink blankets and pink teddy bears. The hostess came around to each table and gave us each a blank “Advice to the New Mommy” card. I sat and stared at mine while they unwrapped more pink presents. What could I write? I glanced at my sister-in-law’s card who was seated next to me. Let Mike help with the nighttime feedings she had written. Solid advice.
I thought of all the advice and words of wisdom I’d been given, especially about how fast it all goes. Everybody told me. It goes by fast, Dana everyone said. Cherish every moment, Dana they said. Even now strangers in the store will sometimes look at us and smile, “Enjoy them now while they’re little, Mom” they’ll say. “They grow up so fast.”
I scribbled some practical piece of advice on that card about letting others help, but as I drove to my mom’s house to pick up my daughters I just kept thinking about how it seems like yesterday that I was the one opening presents and getting advice for a new mom. It wasn’t yesterday, though. It was over seven years ago. I wanted to turn the car around and tell my friend how fast it all goes. She wouldn’t understand, though. Not yet.
I stepped into my mom’s kitchen and greeted her with a smile. She’s shorter now than she used to be. Slower, too. Her hair is almost completely gray and she can’t see a thing without her glasses. She doesn’t much care for driving at night anymore. Her hands are covered in crinkles as my Katie likes to say.
Yep, it’s all going too damn fast, I thought to myself.