What it won't always be

It won’t always be like this.

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I remind myself of this often.

To help me see through the hard days, but to also pull me into the now.

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Because it’s true.

They won’t always be this small. And I won’t always be this tired.

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They won’t always need me in this way. And I won’t always feel this lost.

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They won’t always come to me first. And I won’t also feel like I come last.

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This is a season.

We will move through it together.

And it will pass before we know it.

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It won’t always be like this.

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And my heart aches as I think about what it may look like.

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The first school drop off.

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The last kiss goodnight.

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The nights up late waiting for a call that doesn’t come.

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Because life will be different one day.

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And it won’t always be this tiring, messy, or beautifully wholesome.

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It will be watching from afar from a clean house, longing for them to come home for a weekend.

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It will be loving them through phone lines, messenger, and the kilometres between us.

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It will be losing myself in something new, to busy my mind from what I’m missing.

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It won’t always be like this.

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Not the hard.

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Or the beautiful.

It will be a different hard and beautiful.

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We won’t always be like this either.

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We will age.

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And our relationship will evolve.

We will be a different type of “us”.

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But this is my one chance at now.

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I only get to love them, be there for them, and be needed in this exact way, once.

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I only get to know this stage of motherhood like the back of my hand, once.

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I only get this time as we are now, once.

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This is it.

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I only get one Motherhood.

And they only get one childhood.

This time is ours.

So I’m breathing it in, in all of its shades, because it just won’t always be like this.