I know you’ve heard it all...
You slept in today and they told you to enjoy it now because you’d never sleep again.
You bought your favorite white throw pillows and sat them neatly on your brand new sofa — they laughed and said you wouldn’t be able to have those soon so you better enjoy them now because within a few short years, they’ll be ruined.
You went and got your car cleaned out, and they told you not to bother. Soon, those sticky fingers will leave handprints on every window.
They warned you over and over again, that any free time you have will be ripped from your grasp 24 hours a day and how you’ll be abruptly interrupted during daily conversations.
Don’t even get me started if you are having a girl and how clear they will make it, how tough those teenage years are going to be on you.
Funny, the same thing we all love more than anything in this entire world, is the same thing we are so quick to pass judgment on to anyone about to enter the most incredible journey of their lives — parenthood.
I wish we wouldn’t. I wish when we saw that glowing pregnant mama, we’d tell her the truth about the sticky fingers and how when we were baking brownies together, he cracked the whole shell in the mix and then so sweetly asked, “Did I do a perfect job mama?”
I wish when we said our little toddler was interrupting we’d tell her what he said, “Check out that moon mommy.” You’ll look up and see the biggest full moon and you’ll think of him every time it’s full from that moment forward.
I wish we’d tell her why the snacks in the back seat were still there after a full day at the water park. We didn’t carry in a bag of snack garbage or wet swimsuits — instead, carried in sleeping toddlers wiped from what they repeated all day was “the best day of my life mommy!”
Can we tell her about having a girl, and how much she’ll love her daddy? How for the next 30 years and beyond they’ll have a bond that could never be broken despite the tough teenage years?
Can we tell her when she looks down at her belly, that she’s about to experience the greatest amount of love her heart has ever held?
Instead of telling her that she’ll never have time for herself again, can we tell her what we actually think about time when it comes to parenthood? How it goes by way too fast and to cherish these ever fleeting moments before they slip through her fingers?
Can we tell her the truth — that one day she will set her child down and never pick him up again without ever realizing he became the age where he didn’t need to be held anymore?
The sleep is less, the mess is bigger, and the free time diminishes — but not a single one of us would trade it for the world.
How bout we tell her first about all the good things, sprinkle in a couple words of wisdom, and then tell her it’s all worth it.