Saw the baby this weekend. He's so smart and he's learning so much. He can DO so much. He says things like "uhh no" and "occupied" and "hi kitty cat" and repeats back to you things that you say, and comprehends them even. That's the big deal: comprehension. Not just mimicry but understanding. He drinks out of a straw at only 2 years old, and he's starting to have an understanding of letters. He knows how to put himself to sleep without help (though he does do so with some measure of fuss if he's only starting to get cranky). He willingly eats his food with utensils, though he does occasionally try to eat things with his fingers. Everything about him is evolving and intelligent and learning. It terrifies me. I look at my little boy and he's like a stranger to me. Three months ago he was only saying things like "mama", "dada", "hi", "aww mah", "uh oh". Now he's this communicating, grown-up little boy who doesn't believe in "cuddling". It's like meeting a new person in a similar, slightly larger body. I love him unconditionally; nothing that is mine is not also his. But I'm afraid. I'm afraid of the time that has passed without me seeing him. I'm afraid that I'll suffer from another enormous gap in his development, miss some other major event of his life. I'm afraid that when he grows up, all I will have is regrets that I couldn't spend more time with him, hold him more, play with him more, laugh with him more. Parenthood is the realization that you are hollow without your memories, and greedy for more, and the terror that accompanies that knowledge that you won't -have- more memories of holding your little boy in your arms without him being too heavy to hold for more than a few minutes, of curling up next to him while he sleeps peacefully, of his unconditional love and happiness at just being near you, is crushing. Fear it, readers. Fear the realization that without them, you're nothing.
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drake_eld's journal
