Last Word: Little Miracles

By Nora Heston Tarte

The years are short but the days are long.
Why is it every cliché rings truer as I get older?

It’s really easy as a parent to become bogged down by the days. Especially in summer when schedules are up in the air and there’s more freedom throughout the weeks. How do you keep the kids entertained for three months?!

The day-to-day monotony of parenting a young child can bring down my mood and the hours of playing hot wheels and driving to and from swim lessons and sports practice too often feels like too much.

But I recently had an experience that made me re-think how overwhelming it can feel to be a parent.

We all know that children are miracles. Like honestly, how life is created is nothing short of a damn miracle. I still don’t know how my body did that. But we don’t talk about what it is like when your body doesn’t do what it’s supposed to do.

So many women struggle with infertility and pregnancy loss and it’s like this weird taboo topic. We’re ashamed to say our bodies failed. But why?

I always knew my son was a miracle, but nearly five years after giving birth to him and a few failed attempts at giving him a sibling and the things I’ve learned about my body have made me realize just how much of a miracle he is.

And in that realization I didn’t find sorrow. I found gratitude.

I’m not going to sit here and say I’m now this 100 percent peaceful parent who runs my entire life around the wants of my four-year-old. That’s garbage. No one really does that, do they? But in those moments when I used to sigh and insist he play by himself or turn off the TV we were watching together at exactly 30 minutes because time was up, I’ve learned to pause. I get down on the floor more, I play monster trucks for more than ten minutes, I let him watch TV just a little bit longer as long as he promises to cuddle. I’ve changed my outlook a bit. Because I never thought this was the only time I’d get to do these things. And now I’ve learned he’s only four for one year, and then he’ll only be five for one year, and too soon he won’t need me so much anymore and where will I be then?

He’s a miracle. A true miracle. And I’ve learned to start cherishing his magic a little bit more.

Be the first to comment

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published.


*