Milestones as Monuments

I’ve watched each child’s various milestones play out very differently both for me and for them. With my first, I watched YouTube videos about what a typical movement looked like each month; should she be able to bend a limb and put weight on it and when? I’d study her sounds and babbling, looking for things to worry about. She would smile at me and I read it as, she will be hungry again soon. Postpartum Depression robbed me of my ability to enjoy being a mother. I saw her as a limitless to-do list and I was a stoic creator of milk, unsure of why I couldn’t feel love the way I was supposed to.

Once I had my second, I recognized what an unreliable place my mind had been. It wasn’t until a window opened and light flooded in, that I was able to understand just how dark it was. Something shifted and I could see my daughters as blessings and the burden of their needs started to feel like ones that I was strong enough to carry; a monumental milestone within myself.

I was so busy with two under two, I had limited time for worry. Milestones were happening left and right and I just stood in the center in awe of all my daughters were capable of. I enjoyed them in the way a sheepdog thrives by managing chaos.

I don’t know if it’s that my third daughter is so full of happiness, or if I’m only now able to appreciate it, having lived through multiple perspectives, where each feel like entirely separate lives. I have even less opportunities for pause than before, but this time I don’t overthink her, I enjoy her.

My favorite milestone with each child, served as monuments, the pillars, of what my kids and I have endured together:

My first, I celebrated her birth as our greatest achievement together. This set the stage for knowing we could both survive what from the outside looked like an insurmountable feat.  

My second, walking. I look back at a completely bald 9-month-old who learned to walk for the sole purpose of wanting to always be next to her older sister. She showed me bonds can be built outside of her and I.

My third, shared joy. It looks like this: something sparks happiness within my baby and her immediate reaction is to see my happiness too.

I cannot think of anything more wonderful. This says so much about the human spirit:

When we feel good feelings, we want to share them with others.

I want to hold onto this idea and keep it just in my eyeline, in case I get so busy with worry that I forget to focus on the fact that my kids will hit marks on their own timetable, just as I have. This makes me feel good, so much so, I want to share it. So let’s share it.