People I know. Complete strangers. They just keep telling me that same thing, in that same warning tone, as if my world is about to shatter and all hell will break loose as soon as my little boy is completely mobile. As if it's about to be the worst thing that could happen to me.
And each time I hear it, I bite my tongue to what my instincts retort in my head. I feel a tinge of anger build up, as if I'm supposed to defend my little boy. Because to me, each time I hear these generalized, empty warnings, I feel as though that person is trying to talk me out of how much I love my child. As if I'm stupid enough to think I enjoy my son because I have no idea what bothersome perils await me once he can get around on his feet (or turns 2). That soon he will become too inconvenient to love and enjoy. Or something like that.
This all may seem so petty, but my number one pet peeve is taking children for granted. My children (dead and alive) are sacred to me. I do not believe in publicly slandering them in any way. I love every aspect of motherhood. I cherish it, even the challenges. It's exactly what I signed up for when Daniel and I decided to embark on the road to parenthood. I take all of it in. I embrace it all as a gift. The gift of being a mother to an amazing boy who's growing each day into the man he will become. I honestly don't find any of it to be an inconvenience. I could never sit and complain about the trials of parenting my living-breathing child. He is literally my dream come true. I nearly died for him.
And I know the alternative. I know what it's like to bury my baby. I know what it's like to clutch nothing but emptiness in aching arms. I know what it's like to pine for a screaming needy baby to keep me up at night, instead of flashback-plagued insomnia and my own miserable tears. I have a baby that never got to cry and she definitely won't ever start walking and apparently turn my world upside down. She turned my world upside down in a very different way, one that actually deserves complaint and discomfort. I'd much rather deal with her walking.
As for Jude, he is my sweet preemie. Because of that alone, his milestones are precious. They are never on time due to his prematurity, and this is something I struggle with. I try not to worry about what he is or isn't doing. So when Jude started taking steps, we were overjoyed! Disdain was the last emotion I'd ever visit. We encourage him to learn to walk, trying to get him to take steps back and forth between Daniel and me. We count the steps (so far his record is four steps before falling) and we clap and cheer when he does fall. He gets so excited as he's taking these precious steps because he knows he's accomplishing something amazing, something he's never done before. Something his prematurity could have very well taken away from him.
So am I a bit sensitive? Do I take nonchalant, typical statements too personally? Possibly. But in my life, on the road I've walked, I'm so tired of people treating parenthood and children so typically. It's not a typical occurrence. To some, it's incredibly sacred. It does not come easily. In some cases, like mine, it took multiple near death experiences (among other things) to get a breathing child into this world. I don't take Jude's accomplishments lightly. I celebrate them with everything inside me because I know we nearly buried him as well.
We'll never see Avery take her first steps and she'll never run around and play. But Jude will and I can't wait to see that sweet, silly toddler waddle. I can't wait to chase him and hear him squeal with joy. I'm so excited for what's to come. Suggesting any other response is an insult to what I've been through, no matter how ridiculous that seems.
Not everyone possesses the same ideals or views. Sometimes a thoughtless, seemingly simple comment can evoke so much emotion. What some call inconveniences, others call victories.
