It’s 6:15 in the morning and by some strange stroke of luck I’m still sleeping, all of a sudden I hear a loud thud in the living room. I get up to investigate and Armaan is hunched over in the dark – he walked into the coffee table. I walk over to him and he looks up at me with those baby eyes, the ones that say ‘can you make it better mom?’ and my heart melts. Yes, I realize it’s not cool to be happy when your kid gets hurt, but he actually needed me today.
Over the last year he’s been steadily growing up, and in some ways growing away from me. Kisses are harder to come by, morning cuddles are getting shorter, and he definitely doesn’t need my help with shoelaces, zippers, or choosing his clothes any more. While it’s great to see him being so independent, I can’t help but long for the early days.
I’ve always felt like Armaan and I have a special “thing” going on that I wasn’t able to replicate with Zara (not that I love her any less). When he was born it was just the two of us. Mr T would go to work and I would spend all day for those first 8 months doting on my little boy. One of my favourite memories is his afternoon nap. I’d rock him to sleep and then just lay on the couch for two hours with him on my chest. His naps happened to coincide with Passions & Days of Our Lives perfectly so that was a fun few months.
Having Armaan also completely changed the course of my life. Before he was born I worked an office job for the city I lived in. I had benefits and a great pension plan, but I couldn’t leave him and go back to work, so I chose self-employment. He was my sidekick when I was building my first business, and in some way he’s probably the reason I am where I am today. If he wasn’t born in all his chubby glory almost 11 years ago, my life might not have taken this path.
There’s something about first born kids and mom’s; they teach us that there is no limits to our patience, strength, and love, and they break open our hearts in ways we couldn’t even imagine. Maybe that’s why it’s so hard when they start becoming independent – because we feel like a part of our identity is connected to them?
As the pre-teen years loom over our household (A will be 11 in March), and my little boy seems to be growing fiercely independent every day, I can’t help but feel like it might be time for me to cut the metaphorical umbilical cord between us and give him some space to just be.
Of course if he happens to get hurt, hungry, or just need some cuddles I’m happy to be there because…
I’ll Love You Forever,
I’ll Like You For Always,
As Long As I’m Living,
My Baby You’ll Be…