You Never Know When It’s the Last Time
There’s something about motherhood that nobody can fully explain to you until you’re living it. Everyone tells you, “It goes by so fast,” and when your babies are little, you smile and nod, but some days definitely do NOT feel fast. 😂 When you’re running on no sleep, reheating the same coffee for the fourth time, cleaning up another mess and wondering how it’s somehow only 10:30 in the morning, time can actually feel pretty slow. But then one day you look up and the baby you were just rocking is walking beside you. The toddler who couldn’t pronounce certain words is suddenly telling you full stories. The little one who needed Mama for absolutely everything is saying, “I can do it myself.” And suddenly you understand exactly what everyone meant.
We spend so much of motherhood celebrating the firsts. The first smile, first tooth, first steps, first day of school. We take pictures, record videos and write down dates because we know those moments matter. But nobody really prepares you for the lasts. The lasts don't announce themselves. Nobody taps you on the shoulder and says, “Hey Mama, pay attention. This is the last time they're going to do this.” Most of the time, the last time looks like any other ordinary day, and you don't even realize it happened until months or years later.
When was the last time I carried one of my babies because their little legs were tired? When was the last time they fell asleep on my chest? When was the last time they reached both arms up because Mama was the only person they wanted? When was the last time I heard one of those adorable mispronounced words I swore I would never forget? I remember doing those things hundreds of times, but I couldn't tell you the exact day they stopped. I didn't know I was doing them for the last time, and something about that absolutely breaks my mama heart.
I think that's what makes motherhood so bittersweet. So many things that feel ordinary while you're living them become incredibly special once they're gone. Bedtime is the perfect example. There are nights when you've already gotten the water, found the stuffed animal, tucked everyone in, given kisses and answered six completely random questions, and then you finally sit down and hear, “MAMAAAA!” 😂
In the moment, you're thinking, Please just go to sleep. But someday nobody is going to call me back into their room. They won't ask me to lay beside them for five more minutes or tell me one last story. And suddenly those extra five minutes don't seem like such an inconvenience.
And listen, I'm not going to pretend I enjoy every second of motherhood because some seconds are ROUGH. 😂 Some mornings everyone needs something at the exact same time. Someone can't find their shoes even though they're directly in front of them, we're running late, there's laundry everywhere, and somehow everyone is hungry again five minutes after I cleaned the kitchen. There are definitely days when I hear “Mama” so many times that I consider changing my name. We put so much pressure on moms to “enjoy every second,” but I don't think that's realistic. Maybe we don't need to enjoy every moment. Maybe we just need to notice more of them.
I'm trying to get better at looking around in the middle of the chaos and reminding myself, This is their childhood. The backpacks by the door, the shoes everywhere, the conversations in the car, the random Target runs, the family dinners where everyone talks over each other, the movie nights piled onto the couch—this is it. These are the days they're going to remember, and someday I have a feeling these are the days I'm going to wish I could come back to.
Sometimes I think about how often I've said, “Hold on,” when one of my kids wanted to show me something because I was answering an email, cleaning the kitchen or thinking about everything still on my to-do list. And that's not something I say to make myself or any other mom feel guilty. Life doesn't stop because we're raising kids. We still have work, responsibilities, laundry, appointments and a million other things to do. But I'm learning that sometimes those things really can wait five minutes. The dishes will still be there. The email can wait.
Whatever I'm scrolling through on my phone probably isn't more important than the little person standing in front of me saying, “Mama, look.”
As my kids get older, I'm also realizing that motherhood is really one long lesson in letting go. When they're babies, they need you for everything. Then slowly, without you even realizing it, they start doing things themselves. “I can do it.” “I don't need help.” And you're standing there thinking, Excuse me? You literally needed me to keep you alive five minutes ago. 😂 You're proud because this is exactly what you're raising them to do. You want them to become confident, independent people who can walk into the world without you doing everything for them. But nobody tells you how bittersweet it feels when you're actually successful at it.
Sometimes I'll look at my kids now and still see their baby faces underneath who they're becoming. They'll laugh a certain way or make a certain expression and suddenly I see that toddler again. For just a second, I wish I could go back. Not forever—just for one ordinary afternoon. I don't think I'd choose a birthday or Christmas or some huge vacation. I'd choose a regular day. I'd want the sleepy little faces, crazy hair and little feet running through the kitchen. I'd want to buckle them into their car seats and hear those tiny voices from the back seat. I'd rock them a little longer at bedtime, hold them until my arms went numb and not think once about what I needed to get done next.
And then I realize something that stops me in my tracks: one day I might feel exactly that way about today.
One day the house might finally be quiet. The laundry piles might be smaller. Nobody might need me to drive them anywhere or make another snack or help find something that's literally right in front of them. 😂 There will eventually be a last school drop-off, a last practice, a last lunch packed and a last Christmas morning when all of my babies wake up under our roof. And as much as I joke about wanting five minutes of peace sometimes, I know there will probably come a day when I'd give anything to hear the chaos again.
That's why I keep thinking about what I hope my kids remember. Of course I hope they remember the trips, birthdays and fun things we've done, but more than anything, I hope they remember how our home felt. I hope they remember laughing until our stomachs hurt, dancing in the kitchen, singing too loudly in the car, random ice cream runs and sitting on my bed telling me things that felt really important to them. I hope they remember feeling safe. I hope they remember knowing they could tell me anything. And I hope they remember a mom who genuinely loved being their mom.
Not a perfect mom, because Lord knows they're not getting that. 😂 I lose my patience. I get distracted. I say “hurry up” way too much. Sometimes dinner is homemade and sometimes dinner is whatever I can throw together because Mama is DONE for the day. But underneath all of that, I hope they always know how deeply they are loved. I hope they remember that I showed up, that I listened, that I prayed for them and that no matter how old they became, Mama was always a safe place to come home to.
So lately I'm trying to stay for the extra five minutes. I'm trying to listen to the ridiculously long story even when it takes forever to get to the point. I'm trying to put my phone down when they're talking to me. I'm trying to take the picture but also remember to put the camera away and actually live inside the moment. I'm trying to say yes to one more movie night, one more walk, one more bedtime cuddle and one more random dance party in the kitchen.
I don't want to spend their childhood being sad that they're growing, because watching your children grow is one of life's greatest blessings. I want to meet every new version of them. I want to see who they become. I just don't want to rush them there anymore. I don't want to be so focused on what's next that I forget how much I once prayed for what's standing right in front of me.
Someday my house might stay clean longer than ten minutes. Someday there might not be shoes scattered by the door or cups left in random rooms. Someday nobody will yell “MAMAAAA!” from the other side of the house because they can't find something. And I have a feeling when that day comes, I'll sit in the quiet I once begged for and miss the noise.
So for now, I'll take it. I'll take the mess, the busy schedules, the endless snacks, the loud car rides, the interruptions, the bedtime conversations and the random hugs. I'll take the moments when they still choose to sit right beside me even though there is an entire couch available. I'll take all of it because these aren't just ordinary days I'm trying to get through. These are the days that are becoming their childhood, and they're becoming some of the most precious years of my life too.
Because you never know when it's the last time. You don't know when it will be the last time they ask you to carry them, crawl into your bed, reach for your hand or ask you to stay for five more minutes. And maybe that's the reminder I need in this season—to rush a little less, laugh a little more and hold on a little longer.
Because someday, the ordinary moment you're living right now might be the one you'd give anything to have back. 💗
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