At some point during the early weeks or months of parenting your new little one, someone will tell you that you will miss these days when they’re gone. At that same point during those early weeks or months (or first two or three years) of parenting your new little one, you will scoff mightily at the idea that you will miss even a single moment of these days. I remember the duel my brain had with itself, both believing that advice and also believing that was some desperate marketing to new parents. Even so, I remember some of those early struggles even now, and, even more, I remember a song I sang to myself during those times—don’t wish it away too soon, don’t wish away these moments, in the midst of these hard things, in the mix of all these moments, are the things my heart will want to hold, don’t wish it away too soon.
Alongside those words I created a hummable tune to help melodic mantra stick as I moved through the early days, weeks, months of parenting, those days when I had little idea what it was exactly I was doing or trying to do. But something within me resonated with the words I’d heard and read, about how I would miss things. So I held on to that idea with the same tenacity with which I was holding onto God when there was too little sleep and too many tears, from me and from our babies. I hummed the tune and I sang the words. Don’t wish it away too soon.
And, here’s the thing. I do miss those days, even the really hard ones. Though, I’m not sure that is the right phrase, that I miss those days. I say that, because I’m not certain I’d want to go back and do them all again. But I do experience still today a deep sense of longing for some of those moments. No, not the sleepless nights or the inability to console a crying child. But the tender moments. The soul-filling, heart-tender moments. Those, I absolutely miss.
Those moments, however, are also the moments that inform the current ones with our teenagers. Looking back, my husband and I are able to see the strong foundations we were building at the time, even in the inconsolable crying and sleepless nights and parenting missteps when we were out of synch with our girls (my husband was always better at being instep than I was, so I am grateful I could follow his lead back then when I needed to). Even so, there were the tender moments of babywearing and baby snuggles and the heart-filling joys of baby gurgles and babbles, first words, first steps, first drawings, first letters. The moments of reading them stories and exploring the world together (we still do this and it is a beautiful gift). Don’t wish it away too soon.
As we have moved through the years and encountered different opportunities and new challenges, still there are the tender moments and the heart-filling joys, foundations being built. And, of course, in the midst of the harder moments, when we’ve had to work out the next steps, every now and again, that tune I’d created in their baby years has come back to me, and I still find myself humming the melody, trying to place its familiar notes until, finally, the words float through my mind, Don’t wish it away too soon.
Those words, that familiar tune, have reminded me time and again to be present with my girls, whatever age they were. They have helped me remember to appreciate the small moments and to see them as the stepping stones they are. Even more, they are the ongoing gift of a life lived in the moments, ordinary moments that I see as extraordinary. I tuck them away even as I sing those words to myself, Don’t wish it away too soon. The days can seem long, but the years do seem but a blink of the eye now that I see teenagers where my toddlers once sat at the dining room table we have had since they were that young. My heart smiles and my soul recalls the amazing adventure we have had since they arrived. My soul overflows with delight at the two remarkable young women I get to share my days with. And as I spend that time with them, my mind echoes with that now-familiar melody, Don’t wish it away too soon, thankful I’ve had that reminder all these years.