Birthdays bring reflection of past years...

I remember a time where I would cradle my daughter in my arms all night, rocking her back and forth, as she cried nonstop. I could remember the path my feet would take during those long hours. The steps would almost sound rhythmic under my tired body. I swore the night would never end, or the crying would never stop, and she wouldn't ever sleep a moment in her entire life. I felt trapped in a time where her colic ruled my life and it never felt like I would survive. 

But now, those memories feel like they belong to someone else. Like, they were told to me around a campfire as people were exchanging ancient ghost stories. It felt as if I memorized them and now, I hold onto those memories with no direct connection to myself.

I can no longer feel myself in that place. I can't feel the tiredness I felt over those long nights. Or the sadness I felt when I couldn't make her feel better.

Because as life has it, too much time has passed since then.

All those infant memories were pushed aside to allow for the magical moments that paved way for the wonderful little girl who now encapsulates my everyday. 

However, these days have come and gone quicker than I can memorize them. Each day is more fleeting than the last. 

I feel the rush of childhood whizzing by at an alarming rate.

Her personality has stayed the same over the years, which helps me hold onto something concrete, when her interests change like the weather.

When I scroll through my camera roll, I'm saddened by the current images of her. I no longer see the little infant I used to rock in my arms. Instead, I now see a little girl who is ready to take on the world. 

Her maturity makes her almost unrecognizable from her past years, but when she holds tightly onto my hand right before she falls asleep, I know she's still the same little baby I used to rock all night long. 

But, the rocking has been replaced with long before bedtime conversations. And her conversations have become deeper. She is more aware of the world we live in. She talks politics, history, and loves to watch the science channel with her daddy, then tell me all about it.

Her brother has become her best friend, which was a growth milestone I have been waiting for, which felt like forever.

And, she has one of the kindest souls I've seen in a child.

With that, the realization of my time of motherhood has been the most fleeting experience I have dealt with to date. 

But, as much as I would love to freeze time and savor the moments, I'm glad time moves as it does. Because, with time, brings change. And change brings growth. And without growth, I'd still be in the same nursery, rocking my colicky baby all night long.

And, I wouldn't have had these past 6 years of my daughter's life to enjoy the journey of how we arrived here. I wouldn't have been able to move beyond the frozen moment to see what the next wonderful stage was patiently waiting for me.

And it's all these smaller moments that build the bigger picture of her life. So when the days are tough and long. Or amazing and fleeting. I have every detail of her life to look back upon. And with those moments of reflection, that's when, I can't believe how much time has passed.

Eventually, you're sitting around a party table with not only family, but school friends as well, and you're all celebrating her 6th birthday -and you can't believe you are here.

But, the gratitude of watching her grow, buries the sorrow I feel for father time. 

My sadness of feeling like her childhood is quickly fading, turns to anticipation of what all her years will bring.

And through it all, I not only have the privilege of viewing her life, but I get to live it with her. I get to watch as each year, she becomes more like the adult she will eventually be. 

And that, is something I can thank father time for.