“I would give the world to you.” -Ian Axel

For some people who are not parents, becoming one can seem  not only daunting, but repressive; that the responsibilities it entails are so limiting that there’s no place for it in a life of excitement and independence. I won’t argue that parenting can be restrictive.

Gone are the late nights of freewheeling abandon and the ability to engage in social merriment at the drop of the proverbial hat. But that’s only because it’s how the Universe opens you up to something else.

Sacrifice is giving up something good for something better.

Trading in a bustling social life for early bedtimes and parent teacher conferences can seem, to many, to be a little…unappealing. But, if I’m being honest, those were some of the reasons I was terrified of becoming a parent. I knew I would miss the freedom to do as I pleased when I pleased. And, while this is not everyone’s reason for not having children, it was a particular fear of mine. Call it selfish, but there it is.

But those aimless years of flitting from one social event to the next, of having no one who relies upon you, become emptier with time. The  glitter fades. The ability to invest one’s time and energy according to whim and fancy is a vital part of the human experience; a crucial part of growing. But as a long-term goal, it lacks substance (George Clooney.)

Don’t get me wrong, parenting is not for everyone. There are plenty of people who lead richly rewarding lives who never foray into the adventure of parenting. And likewise, there are plenty of d-bags who become parents who I’d sooner seen drawn and quartered. The evening news is replete stories of abuse and neglect at the hands of undeserving parents.

But, ideally speaking, I wish every good person who wanted children, would have the opportunity to join the fray of parents far and wide; that every person of good character with a kind heart could bring a child into their home to raise. I wish that every wonderful person I knew who wanted children and couldn’t have them, for whatever reason, was able to. To have the chance to have a person depend upon you for–literally–everything is humbling and fulfilling.

It is nothing I would trade and something I often wish I could have had the opportunity to do again.

I have an indescribable love and appreciation for my daughter. She gives me purpose in a potentially rudderless world. She embodies the hope and optimism that seem to fade as we age. She is Prozac in human form; I take her daily.

Her blue eyes and smattering of freckles are priceless art to me. She grows and evolves hourly and as I become excited at this prospect, I daily mourn the loss of each stage of her development. I have these ridiculous moments where it hits me: she’s not a baby; she’s not a toddler. I might never have that again. Even as I type that I cry.

And when I clean out her closet and cast out the clothes she’s outgrown, I cry more. Because she’s growing and shedding those years of childhood. And because I’m succeeding to no small degree in achieving one of the main things I believe the Universe had planned for me: helping her become the incredible woman she was intended to be.

I may not be prolific in my mothering, but it’s quality not quantity that are imperative here–and in that quarter I’m doing a damn fine job.

She is everything good in me and everything good I wish was in me. I finally understand unconditional love. There is nothing–nothing–that she could do that would ever diminish my love for her.

I think that’s the gift of being a parent. That’s the gift she gives me every day.

XOXO

hollie

“In the end we have each other, and that’s at least one thing worth living for.” -Ian Axel

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