Tonight, at bedtime, I picked up my daughter for an extra long hug. She’s measures up to my heart now and before long, I will be looking up to her.
I held on tightly as I thought about how many more of these all encompassing hugs I would be able to savor. How many more hugs where I can hold her and support her with just my two feet on the ground? How many more times where I can feel the tensions of her day melt into my body? How many more times will she accept these offers to just be together and that be enough?
She’s my oldest and I joke that I’d be a perfect mom to one child. Dividing time and attention to three is very different than one. As I hugged her, I thought of the many missed days that I have not hugged her as hard or as long and how I will never be able to gain those back.
Regret in motherhood is inevitable because we can never be the perfect mother. But knowing this does not make it any easier in the moment. Holding space for ourselves when we have those tides of regret wash over us is essential. Returning to our dock and regrouping allows us to get back out and ride the surfs the next day.
I write everyday because it allows me to voice what is at the surface. Once that is out of my head, I can dig in another layer deeper. My daily writing practice has been my greatest exploration of self and humanity. Sign up here to receive these thought nuggets in your inbox on the daily.