This morning, my baby, you were crying your heart out. I couldn’t put you down on the floor, leave you in your high chair, or put you in your crib. I couldn’t get you to eat. I couldn’t give you your pacifier—you were crying and screaming. But your brothers had to eat breakfast so they could leave for school, and I also had to make them a snack and pack their backpacks. And to top it all off, your brother broke a glass, so there was a big mess to clean up on top of my patience being completely worn thin.
As if that weren’t enough, these days I’m dealing with a major challenge: getting back into the workforce. One minute I want to, and the next I don’t at all. And this transition is full of pitfalls. It’s complicated. I don’t have the information I need. I can’t take the lead the way I like to, but I know that once I’m really settled into this job, I’ll love it. But you—you’re crying.
In your little heart, there’s no difference between a Saturday morning when we have time to cuddle and a Tuesday morning when Mom is overwhelmed. So you wail, and I end up picking you up. And then, time stands still. You press your little head against the crook of my neck. Your crying subsides. I run my hand through your little blond hair. I take a deep breath of your scent—it’s so divine. You cling your little hand to my shoulder. You start searching my neck as if looking for my breast, and you fall asleep, your body growing heavy.
And in that moment, I’m the one who cries. Because I’m questioning the choice I’m making. Is it necessary? What has always mattered most in my life is you, my children. I promised myself I’d savor every moment. To take the time to cuddle you, hug you, comfort you, play with you, and teach you everything I know. To take the time to listen to you and answer your questions. But this morning, that’s not what I did.
I realized that what I want is to be with you. I had children to watch them grow up. To hold them in my arms and take the time to comfort them, even on a Tuesday morning.
So, my baby, I promise to think carefully about the choice I’m making right now. But most of all, I promise that if you’re crying and need my arms—even on a Wednesday morning—I’ll take the time to be there for you.