Parenting
The Flow of Time by Emily Carter
Updated: Aug. 3, 2016
Originally Published: Sep. 9, 2010
When a newborn arrives, you begin to measure life in fleeting moments. You marvel at how dramatically existence can transform in just a few hours. Just moments ago, everything felt one way, and now you recognize an irreversible, monumental change. You thought you understood love, but now you confront a depth of affection that renders previous experiences pale and flat. Initially, you track your baby’s age in hours, then days. Eventually, as you once counted down your pregnancy in weeks, you transition to marking weeks—6 weeks, 8 weeks, 12 weeks old. This feels accurate and mirrors the milestones laid out in your parenting manuals. Before long, counting in weeks becomes cumbersome, so you switch to months. It’s astounding to think that, sooner than you realize, you’ll start thinking of this child’s age in terms of YEARS. In fact, before long, you might even use his age to calculate how old YOU are!
With the loss of a child, this perception of time takes on a different hue. How could Jack have been alive and vibrant just seconds before I reached the water’s edge? They searched for him for hours. Jack has been gone a day! A week has passed since our lives shattered. Two weeks. Three. Could it really be a month? Are we counting in months now? Yet his clothes remain here, untouched. The brand-new school shoes he never wore sit by his bedroom door. He still receives mail, for goodness’ sake!
When we think in weeks, we remember a Thursday at 6 PM; when we think in months, we recall the 8th. It’s a double blow of sorrow. Will there come a time when we only measure time in terms of YEARS? And decades? I believe so. Jack will remain forever just shy of 12 ½.
When your child was small, you celebrated milestones, and while you wished away the particularly tough days, you also longed to slow down the years and savor every moment of his childhood. Now, in the wake of losing a child, you grieve as the chasm between your family’s past and present widens, yet you desperately wish for the years to speed up because a lifetime without him feels unbearably long.