Dear New Mom,
I once occupied the same space you now inhabit. I know it may seem hard to believe, but it’s true.
There you are, kneeling down, a vibrant, heavily bandaged infant secured to your body, soothing your three-year-old who is distressed over the earthworms. “They surface when it rains,” you explain, “and sadly, some end up drowning.” Your little one nods, sniffling, adding, “And they smell too.”
You both pause in admiration as my daughter walks by; she’s now a sixth grader. She’s performing as Ralph Rackstraw in the school’s HMS Pinafore. In that moment, she seems larger than life—almost like a queen tossing candy from a glittering float. Your child knows her name, and I can tell because he whispers it excitedly to you as she passes by.
Your gaze darts to me, and I offer a smile. But I worry that to you, I might resemble a jack-o’-lantern, with my worn-out appearance, graying skin, and the remnants of my youth slipping away. Instead of a baby, I have a teenager, and instead of nurturing a child, I’m grappling with the changes that come with age.
As you greet another mother with a matching baby, the conversation will flow into the joys of sippy cups and sleep schedules. Someone might crack a joke about bringing a little tequila to playgroup. Leaving won’t be an option unless your child catches a glimpse of you through the nursery window, triggering a cascade of tears.
I’ll lean down just enough to kiss my daughter goodbye, brushing my lips against her radiant face, adorned with thick, dark lashes that frame her curious eyes. I’ll climb into my car alone, fastening my seatbelt, and head to a café where I’ll spend the morning writing in solitude. No more lukewarm steamed milk or sharing scones with a tiny tornado of energy darting toward every distraction.
You’ll whisk your little ones home for a comforting lunch of Annie’s Mac and Cheese (with peas!), followed by a leisurely stroll to the nearby farm. You’ll marvel at the daffodils and the bees, feeling the warm spring breeze on your faces. Your son will stand in awe, eyes wide as he reaches out for your hand, the other thumb nestled in his mouth. You’ll wrap your fingers around his while taking in the joyful chaos of your baby squealing at the sight of horses.
As you wonder about dinner and contemplate if life will always be this delightfully slow, you’ll think of the older moms and what their lives must look like. (We sip wine from real glasses while the kids help with the salad.) You might ponder if you’ll miss these moments one day, and let me assure you, you will. Not the colds or the cumbersome snowsuits, but the distinct scent of a baby’s head freshly awakened from a nap, the feeling of their warmth beside you during storytime, and the fleeting days of infancy that vanish all too quickly.
Before you know it, you’ll find yourself sneaking in at night to gently lean down and breathe in that familiar, comforting scent of your child’s sleeping head. You’ll become one who bends down, cherishing those moments even when it’s no longer necessary.
You may not believe it now, but trust me, it’s all true.
If you’re interested in exploring home insemination options, consider checking out this post on artificial insemination kits for more information, or delve into this excellent resource on IUI to further your understanding. For those on a fertility journey, this couples’ guide is a great authority to consider.
In summary, every stage of motherhood comes with its own challenges and joys. Embrace the moments, and know that they will transform as time passes.
Keyphrase: Open Letter to a Nursery-School Mom
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