The musical rhythms of motherhood resonate within me

We have our schedule down – the boys are on the same nap and feeding schedule. They go down and stay down, for the most part. Of course, when they don’t, we know something is off. It’s how we knew one was teething; it’s how we knew the other had a fever and wasn’t feeling well. 
    

I’m with them each day – and now, as we continue practicing self-isolation, I’m with them almost 24/7. So, sometimes I miss certain things. I don’t see exactly how much they’ve grown until I realize that the onesies that I used to have no trouble snapping are snug to button, or that a belly is busting out from the seams.
    

I don’t see how tall they’ve gotten until I realize I need to raise the bouncer, or that we’re on to the next size of pants.
    

But the other day, as one of my sons looked over at me from his high chair and flashed the biggest grin, I saw his two tiny teeth protruding from the top of his mouth. And in that instant, I saw not the ruddy, baby infant face – the toothless, gum smile – that I’ve seen for months staring up at me during our countless nursing and bottle sessions. 
    

I saw the face of a toddler, and I could clearly see just how big he’d gotten. No longer the tiny 5-pound infant that easily fit inside the cradle of my arms. Now, 17- and 20-pound  bodies hang down across my body as we rock together in the rocking chair. On the verge of crawling and cruising around, I know it’s just a matter of time before their mobility takes them into even more directions – and mischief. 
    

But it’s in these moments that my mother-heart calls out: Wait! Slow down! It’s too soon to see such big changes.
    

I was talking with a friend (and mother of four) about my struggles introducing the sippy cup to my 9-month-olds. “I’ve had zero luck,” I lamented, “and my pediatrician told me to be sure they’re off the bottle by one year.” 
    

At the rate we’re going, we’ll be on the bottle for the foreseeable future. She laughed and told me not to stress. She had stressed about developmental delays for her first son; but with her other kids, she realized each one grew and did things very differently. “Let them grow,” she said. “Let them develop organically. They’ll get there soon enough.”
    

As my son smiled and giggled before lifting his hands in the air – the universal sign for “pick me up!” – I remembered those words: they’ll get there soon enough, though, sometimes, it feels like too soon.
    

As I rushed over to rescue him from his high chair, I scooped him in my arms. His brother looked up at me sleepily, rubbing his eyes; it was almost time for their first nap. I thought of how much they’ve grown – how much I’ve grown – in these past nine months. 
    

The classical music – the beginning of our wind-down routine – filled the living room as I picked up both boys to snuggle on the couch. Only then, it seems, does time truly slow down and we savor those moments of pure joy.
    

Dr. Heather Bozant Witcher can be reached at hbozantwitcher@clarionherald.org.