Could you imagine, back then when you tracked all your newborn daughter’s naps in the app and weighed your baby weekly, that everything would be fine?
Could you imagine a world where you slept through the night and woke up to morning cuddles in bed while your seven-year-old watched Meekah and Blippi on your phone? Could you imagine a night without interruption, a morning without crying? Could you imagine that words like “purple crying” and “diaper rash” and “sleep pressure” are no longer reference points? Can you imagine a bathroom cupboard without Baby Gaia, D-drops and diaper cream?
Can you imagine that one day you’ll go to Costco, and your list will contain chicken pot pie, Chicago Mix, coffee, bread, panda cookies, mini-wheats and smoked salmon, but no diapers or baby wipes? Did you ever think when you shopped at Costco with a baby on your front in a carrier, dripping with sweat and getting directed to the first aid room to nurse when she lost her cool in front of the cashier, that she would not only graduate to sitting in the cart but eventually become a useful sidekick, grabbing the coffee for you and placing boxes of mini wheats underneath?
Could you imagine bumping into a friend at a store, and your daughter and “Dance Kendall” running along together on their cereal-fetching mission? Could you imagine that she would help unload the car and that you would pass her two giant bags of Chicago Mix and she would know to put one in the cupboard and set the other by the door for grandma? Did you ever think she would pick out flowers for you and you would divide the bouquets into five small vases—one for the kitchen table, two for each bathroom, one for your office and the last one into a fox-shaped vase for her room?
Did you ever even think she would talk? That you wouldn’t just be stuck guessing what the different cries meant? Is she hungry? Hot? Cold? Surely it couldn’t be another dirty diaper. How infuriating that you were stuck in an endless math equation of: How long since the last feed? How long since the last diaper change? How long until the next nap?”
Did you think back then, when your Facebook feed was full of ads for lactation cookies and tips on baby-led weaning that you could one day just serve the family all the same meal—that except for salad and curry, she’d eat the same thing as everyone else? Did you ever think you could just throw a couple granola bars in your purse instead of pre-chopping strawberry bits in a Tupperware that would no doubt get forgotten in the car until the “fur” had grown into an unwieldy science experiment?
Did you ever think your baby would go on to perform a Toy Story song at the Farquhar for her dance recital and that you’d be putting blush and lipstick on her to counter the stage lights? Could you imagine a summer where she decided to wear her costume every day to science camp? That she would visit the bug zoo dressed like Jessie the cowgirl and make purple coloured slime?
Did you ever imagine this? I don’t know if you could, back in the fog of sleep deprivation and constant breast feeding and your back hurting from baby wearing. But you sure did hope for it. It’s hard to imagine, now, having a seven-year-old, what future self she will turn into. What music will play at the living room dance parties? When will she get tired of fetching mini wheats at Costco? When will she graduate from stage makeup to everyday makeup? It’s so hard to imagine what type of mother you’ll need to be. What the pre-teen version of “purple crying” is. What the teenage version of “sticker club” will be. What the young-adult equivalent of braiding hair at recess is.
She’s already shed her baby-self, her toddler-self, her kindergarten-self. And you’ve shed your shell-shocked new mom version of yourself and your “…but I thought we’d gotten the sleep schedule down!” toddler-mom self and your “overwhelmed by PAC emails” kindergarten-mom self.
It’s hard to imagine what the future holds. What type of older kid and pre-teen and teenager she’ll become. Who you will become to her.
For now, you can only imagine.
