People tell you that “it goes so fast” when you have kids. That’s always the first thing they say when they find out you’re pregnant. “Cherish these moments because it goes so fast.” I have always been aware of the fact that life moves quickly, long before I had a child. As a kid, I remember hanging out with my family at a park or ball game and trying to remember every detail because I knew it wouldn’t be like this for long. I stayed up too late building legos with my brother because I knew he wouldn’t always think I was cooler than his friends. As I built relationships with friends, I did the same thing when we skipped school or went shopping or laughed so hard we cried. I treasured every year of college because I knew it was the most freedom I would ever have. I started dating my husband and I seem to have accumulated so many photos in my mind of how he looks in different lights. Backlit by the light pouring out of the coffee shop windows, a streetlight shining down and making his brown hair look blue, sunlight flashing across his face as I glanced over from the passenger seat.

All of these moments went by too quickly, but the moment time stopped was the night my son was born. He was born at 10:31pm and I was exhausted, but every minute of that night was at least an hour long. There was a terrible storm with bright lightning, pouring rain and loud claps of thunder right outside of our window. My husband held him close to his chest, swaddled in a blanket and a blue and pink hat. I remember this child looking at me, helpless and scared, with wide, gray-blue eyes in the dimly lit hospital room. For the next six months, life was slow. Those first 6 weeks were the longest I have ever experienced. Recovering from a C-section while sleep deprived and learning to breastfeed and parent amongst a steady stream of visitors made the days seem to stretch on like weeks.

The days after returning to work, longing for the moment when I could hold my child again while pumping in a chilly supply closet, felt like an eternity. Worrying over every cough and sneeze, milestones not yet reached, percentiles, vaccines, milk supply, formula supplementing, healing, losing weight, and new gray hairs consumed my thoughts.

These are moments I don’t want to cherish, or even remember. They are moments that make me want to put off trying for another baby. Thinking about trying to go through all of that again with a TODDLER?! HAHAHHAHA, just send me to the funny farm now. Anyone with 2 or more kids less than 5 years apart has suddenly become a saint in my eyes. Whenever I meet someone with a 6 month old, I want to say, “You made it! It’s okay. It gets better now.” Instead of encouraging them to “savor it” and “hold on,” I listen patiently, look them in the eyes and tell them, “it won’t last forever.”