14 Octobers
I haven’t had much time for reflection these past few months. Life and work have been busy, and it’s been a grind. Every October feels this way, and as I wrap up celebrating both of our girls’ birthdays, I can’t help but take a few moments to pause and reflect on our lives. I’m reminded of the first October when I became a mother.
The words of the little old ladies who once swooned over my babies echo in my mind: “Enjoy your little ones; it goes by so quickly.”
When you’re in it, it’s hard to stop and truly listen to those wise words. But I think I did, and I hear them even louder now. Life feels like it’s speeding up, and I’m doing my best to keep pace with it all.
When I became a mother, it wasn’t easy. I’m not sure it ever is for anyone. Being a mother was my dream, but when I got sick with preeclampsia during my pregnancy with my first born, it quickly became something we had to survive.
The last few weeks of my pregnancy were filled with hospital visits and bed rest. We made it to 35 weeks before my body had enough, and we had to deliver. Those days were difficult, and we took each one as it came. I educated myself about what I was facing and listened closely to my nurses, who ultimately saved my life.
I spent several days in the hospital before giving birth. I remember holding my daughter for the first time and whispering, “Hey little girl, we’re going to have a lot of fun,” before they whisked her away to the special care unit, where she spent the next week.
I went nearly 24 hours without seeing her again. I sent my husband to be with her while I sat alone in my hospital room, staring at a digital photo of her and marveling at how beautiful she was. It felt like an eternity being separated from her, and I knew I wouldn’t rest until I could hold her again. After much pleading with my nurses, they finally weaned me off the medication and rolled me down the hallway so I could see her at last.
That week was a blur of recovery and determination. I was told to feed her every two hours and/or pump every two hours. My body had ballooned with inflammation, and my blood pressure still hadn’t stabilized. But I was determined to be there for her.
I remember waking up in the middle of the night, in a dark hospital room, with my husband asleep in the corner. I fumbled with the breast pump while on medication that made the world blurry, trying to get my daughter just a few drops of colostrum. It looked like nothing, but she needed it, and it was something.
After a week, I was discharged, and a few days later, we were able to bring our baby home too. My husband didn’t have much time off, and after my mom’s short visit, I was on my own, caring for this tiny five-pound, four-ounce baby girl.
Something no one tells you after having a baby is how quickly your life stops being your own. If you’re tired, you can’t just rest. Feeding every two hours means every two hours, day and night. The life you knew ends, and this beautiful new life begins to emerge.
That first year brought many challenges. We adjusted to our new life, and I mourned the person I once was while learning to grow into the mother I was becoming. Friends without children slowly drifted away. Work became harder too, because when I returned, I brought the baby with me each day to the office, juggling a demanding job and a newborn.
When our daughter’s first birthday arrived, I threw a big celebration. Not just to mark her milestone, but to celebrate that we had survived that first year together.
I always wanted more children, but my first pregnancy left me scared and traumatized. I wanted our daughter to have a sibling, but I worried about what might happen if we risked it again. It wasn’t until several years later that we felt ready.
Before trying again, I even bought life insurance to make sure my family would be okay if something happened to me. Not long after, I became pregnant with our second child.
Nearly five years to the day after I first became a mother, we welcomed our second daughter into the world. Her birth story had its own complications, but we were seasoned veterans by then. The preeclampsia never fully manifested in this pregnancy, but the baby did have some growth restriction, and the doctor advised us to go ahead and deliver when we got to 37 weeks.
We arrived at the hospital that morning for the induction, and soon after, things started to go downhill. Our daughter’s heart rate began to drop, and the doctor looked at me and said, “We might have to do an emergency C-section.”
After she left the room and we had a quiet moment together, I looked at my husband and said, “What are we waiting for? Go get the doctor and tell her I’m ready. Let’s do whatever we need to do to get our baby out of distress as soon as possible.”
About 30 minutes later our second child emerged and was a perfect four-pound, five-ounce peanut. Thankfully, she only spent a few hours in the special care unit before they brought her to me. She was small, but she was strong.
We celebrated our oldest daughter’s fifth birthday in the hospital that year and were able to go home the day after. To our oldest, her sister was the best birthday present a little girl could have.
And now, here we are celebrating their fourteenth and ninth birthdays.
As our first born finishes middle school and high school comes into view, my mind has begun the countdown: just four and a half more years with her under our roof. Her calendar is full, her circle of friends wide, and I can already see how our relationship is evolving. She doesn’t need me in the same ways she once did. She’s independent, confident, organized, and thoughtful taking on so much with quiet determination. Our job now is to support her when she asks and give her the space to grow and shine.
Meanwhile, we see our youngest beginning to leave early childhood behind as she steps into her next chapter. She’s learning to share the spotlight with her sister, discovering her talents, and finding her own way in the world.
I stand in awe of my children as they grow, as I think most parents do. I know I’m still in the middle of it all, trying to hold onto innocence, fun, and joy in a world that isn’t always innocent or joyful. I do it for them, but I also do it for me and for Jared. It gives me hope that it’s possible because we make it so, together.
I know the next ten years will go by quickly, and I have no intention of letting anything or anyone take my focus off these priceless moments ahead of us.
I made that same resolve rocking my little baby in the special care unit all those years ago, knowing I would do whatever I had to do to give them the life they deserve.
As we close out October and celebrate Halloween this Friday, I’ll stop to appreciate the moment we are currently in. And no matter what’s happening around us or with us, we’ll keep moving toward goodness and light, inch by inch, day by day. We’ll stop and appreciate each other, celebrate each birthday and holiday, and stay grateful for this life in all its complexity.