Time is a Thief
And just like that, I no longer have a preschooler.
The last week of our school year has now come and gone. And suddenly I no longer have a preschooler. Which is crazy because I’m not really getting any older. And while I didn’t have a baby until I was 42 I’m somehow still only 35. My four-and-a-half year old is actually still a toddler, who’s really only a newborn. Some days my c-section scar still seems raw. Others I can’t even remember what it was like to be pregnant.
Time is wild, man.
I spent so many years waiting for this chapter of my life to begin. The parenthood chapter. And throughout those years there were many moments of wondering if it was actually meant to be. Many moments of believing my time had passed. That I would never get the experience of being pregnant. And that I would miss out on the great responsibility and joy of introducing a tiny human to the world.
Then it finally happened. Nearly four and a half years ago our daughter came into the world and changed it completely and forever. It was much later than I ever expected and also right on time. As if the pace of it all couldn’t have been more perfect. Suddenly being a first-time mom over 40 seemed exactly right for me. Sure, I laughed with some of my oldest girlfriends as we realized that when they became empty nesters I would have a preschooler. But I was here for it. Just when I was at a point in my life where I was ready to stop having everything be about me, when I wanted to stay at home and be with my family, here I was with a perfect reason to slow it all down. A new chapter that gave me a new purpose. One that ensured there would be no midlife crisis on the horizon. It isn’t as easy to question your life’s purpose now when a small being needs you for everything from love and protection to wiping their bottom. The timing was right on.
And then that time just started flying by.
