Though he isn’t yet here, I already know there are a million and one things I’ll want to remember about my son when he starts to grow older. I need to remember to take it all in and record it all to memory: his silky tufts of newborn hair. His tiny nose, his perfect toes. His little cries in the middle of the night.
Right now though, as I continue into my ninth month of carrying him with me, I want to always remember this: his movements inside of my big, baby-filled belly; feeling him growing, and being struck by tiny punches, kicks, twists and turns. For over nine months, where I have gone, he has gone, and anything I’ve done, he has done with me. And I feel him in there, this perfect person that I have created with my husband and have grown in my body, who likes to make sure I know that he’s in there. With ninja-like moves and baby dance parties for one, he is always reminding me (as if I could ever forget) that he’s with me.
I want to remember laughing manically with his dad as he rests his hand on my belly and waits for the movements to start. I want to remember looking on in awe as the waves and rolls in my belly become visible… our son!
I want to remember these feelings of my child when he grows into a teenager and no longer thinks his parents are the coolest thing in the world. I want to remember, when he is married and loves another more than me, that even as a 30 year old man, he will always be my baby. I want to always be in awe of him, the way that I am now. I want to marvel at the things he does, like we marvel when he moves.
I understand now why it is so hard for parents to let their children go and grow up. I understand because I feel him growing in me every day. He is so much a part of me, physically inside and attached, walking around with me every day, giving me kicks to remind me he is there.