Middle of the Night Lessons

Last night I got to hold my neighbors' brand new, healthy baby boy.  I forget every single time how incredibly small a new baby really is - it's the epitome of miraculous.  The feeling of such freshness in your arms is at once weightless and heavy. Maybe fresh is a strange word in light of spit up, diapers and the messiness of having a baby. But it is the translucent softness of their skin, eyes still unable to focus, tiny lungs breathing on their own in the world, a fierce act for such a small fragile being.

It was a gift to see this sweet family in PJs and glasses, cuddling and beautiful, exhausted and curious.

New babies give me a strange sort of ache these days - something new to me. I am 37 - ten years older than when I had my first child - and I can see the page slowing turning in our family story. I can't say we won't have another but I am honest that it becomes less likely every year - and I also wonder about our family's ability to balance the needs of everyone.  I don't want to race through their childhoods, crossing milestones off the list. I want to have the chance to relish as many of the moments as I can, marking them in my heart like dogeared pages in a family album.

But sitting with this new mother and remembering that strange sensation of recovering from childbirth.  I remember feeling an odd balance of being heroically strong, unbelievably exhausted, totally relaxed sprinkled with unexpected waves of panic.  I felt peaceful and terrified all at the same time.

As our kids get older, we live in the moment (THIS is hard - not THAT). We often forget what was challenging or exhausting - I am lucky because I've written a lot of it down and it surprises me all the time how much my memory is different than my actual experience.

The old adage, "Little people little problems, Big people big problems" is true - but it devalues that we learn as we go along and it's all important. An unexpected middle-of-the-night-baby-screamfest is not the same as a middle of the night phone call from an adult child - but we become parents in steps and they all matter.

My general sentiment for new parents is that a crying baby or a tricky sleep pattern does not a bad mom (or dad) make. You will have a life time to ask yourself what you're doing wrong, don't get started on it too early.

As parents we all have strengths - some people are better with babies than toddlers, teenagers than adolescents. We are not the best at everything. Some parents become the best sort of parents when their kids are grown - better late than ever has never been so true.

The lessons we learn in the middle of the night getting to know a new baby serve us well through the raising of that tiny person. 

• Be gentle with this tender new being, with yourself.
• We cannot do this alone. No one will give us a prize for never asking for help. 
• Sometimes holding them close is the answer, sometimes walking away is best. 
• We can love them to the moon and back, but we can't know everything that's going on in their head. We just do the best we can.
• We can love someone who is making us crazy - in fact in this case, we have to.
• If we don't take care of ourselves, we aren't doing anyone any favors.
• Tomorrow is a new day. Literally. And it comes too fast.

We won't do everything right, sometimes we won't do anything right, but if we loved that baby (toddler, teenager, adult), I think, we did exactly what was asked of us.  

Parenting is not a competition - and when treated as such everyone loses. Parenting is more like pilgrimage. Make friends with your fellow travelers and you'll never be lonely. There are no books with all your answers, no parent who did everything right. Many paths lead to the same place. We use our best judgement and we walk on our own two feet, and God willing, we all get to that promised land.