Molly turns 2 on Sunday. It’s crazy! And it’s also awesome. I sometimes miss holding her like a baby and I sometimes miss her sleeping on my chest, but no part of me actually wishes she were a baby again. I love that she’s talking and making jokes and laughing and playing and running and jumping and everything that she does now. Most of all, though, I love that we interact now in a way that feels reciprocal. I don’t always know what she’s saying or what she’s asking me for, and I feel bad that that frustrates her, but for the most part our experiences with each other offer so much tangible connection that these frustrating moments feel like small crosses to bear. In comparison to her time as a baby, there’s no question. When she was a baby, I never felt anything close to the connection I feel to her now. I felt like I gave and gave and gave and she took and took and took. I worry that this sounds selfish, as if I only feel so close to her now because she reciprocates, but it’s true. I don’t think it’d be possible to be a truly loving parent if there weren’t some pay back. At least I couldn’t be one. The pay back now is immeasurable. I feel like sometimes it’s even more gratifying because the beginning was so hard. It’s now that I understand why people do this again and again.
When I read this today, I cried. I knew I wasn’t alone in my thoughts, but I think he’s right that it’s not talked about enough. I’m not sure it can be talked about enough. Those first three months, at a minimum, are pretty damn brutal. But then you get a deeper love than you knew was possible. And it’s awesome.