Time is relentless. Time is a force which strips us bare and exposes our vulnerabilities in brazen demonstrations. Before time, we are truly helpless and victims in the truest sense of the word.
I sense this relentlessness in the way time repeatedly tramples the same date year after year. For instance, December 31 was a day of tears for me in 2009. It was the day my Nani passed. As we rang in 2010, I wept on Nathaniel's shoulder and planned which black dress would be lowest maintenance for the week ahead. December 31, 2010 however, was a different day. Without even the benefit of a year to adjust, New Year's Eve became the day my sister in law joined herself to a wonderful man, Josh, in marriage. The pain of the loss still lingered, even as the excitement and happiness for the new day emerged.
Other days are similar in reminding me of relentlessness of time, creating emotional and mental paradoxes in my heart and head. These special days always serve as reminders of the fact that we, as people, can rage and administer anti-wrinkle creams and plan and prepare, but time will always emerge victorious in whatever war we wage against him.
Because of this awareness that has been growing in my estimation, I often challenge myself to enjoy and savor the special moments in my own life and the lives of those I love. I make sure to celebrate events like weddings and babies well with my friends and family. I try to make time for simple enjoyments, like dinners and movies. I travel to be with those I love at important times. Knowing that I am powerless against time, I have repeatedly seized upon moments and events, attempting to savor the moment with abandon that would leave me with only the fondest memories and minimal regret.
I fear for this ability in the face of parenthood, though.
I often read status updates that say things like "Can't believe my baby is already x months old... where did the time go?" and "Time is moving too quickly - X is already Xing..." As a woman who generally has worked at least one job (if not 2), I detect the passing of these children's first months with the pain of recurring deadlines and stresses that keep me from marveling as the child's parents do. I very infrequently share the amazement of those status updates.
I am now at the brink of the third trimester. If Nathaniel and I stick to our original plan, this is the last trimester I will ever be pregnant. I will never feel the gentle pokes of my 7 month gestated son again. Comprehending that it has been 23 weeks since I cried in the tiny bathroom in our 2 bedroom apartment as I sit on the couch in our newly furnished living room in our 3 bedroom house is a stark realization of how quickly "it" has moved and how quickly "it" is apt to continue moving.
I am well versed in human life span development. I know (and have witnessed in the lives of children I love) that the first 3 years of a person's life contain more developmental milestones and events than any other time in human development. I am preparing myself for the rapid progression Nathaniel and I now face as we witness our son's development, in light of the terrifying persistence of time with which we are already familiar.
I fear my only tool is resolve. I resolve to feel and savor everything I can. To be saddened when baby boy leaves behind those endearing baby qualities for a more mature behavior. To be glad when milestones occur at the intervals which indicate development is typical and positive. To be anxious when I feel inadequate towards the task which I must now face. To be frustrated when I feel I don't have the time to prepare for the next step. To feel relieved when a stage passes with which I am not particularly enamored. To feel fully. To feel productively. And to feel without regret when I reflect on the tasks to which I am regularly matched.
I know these next few weeks will pass as though they are nothing. I know the years and months thereafter will maintain that pace. I know that the requirements of me are not likely to diminish and may, in fact, increase. I know that I may not feel adequate to the job, but will still be required to rise to the occasion.
I hope I never mourn the passing of time. I hope I celebrate it.
However, I hope I never forget to remain humble in the face of the foe I will never be able to match: time. I hope I respect it appropriately, while always managing to steal any and all available moments.
Most of all, I hope I never regret.
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