Have you heard about the upcoming total solar eclipse? It’s a once-in-a-lifetime experience where the viewable area of the solar eclipse will cross from the West Coast to the East Coast in a continuous path. The last time this phenomena occurred was 100 years ago. Living in South Carolina, we have the privilege of seeing it!
As the anticipated event approaches and I read article after article about the wonder of the Cosmos, I can’t help but reflect on my own little world.
Now a mom of two, I am still trying to find the balance and rhythm of life with a preschooler and a baby. And let me tell you, I’ve had moments when I wished my children would move on to the next stage already, as I can’t quite find my way as a mom.
On the contrary, nature’s rhythm seems predictable from our vantage point. The sun comes up. The sun goes down. Yet for the past 100 years, the gradual journey of the earth and the moon has brought it to this point where the day-to-day predictability becomes an extraordinary event when the moon will cover the sun for a moment. Coast to coast. Day will become night.
It reminds me of childhood rites of passage. They are anticipated and longed for (by both parent and child). For example the “firsts”: a first smile, first step, first day of kindergarten. But also those “lasts”: last diaper, last day of high school… The list goes on and on.
It’s the everyday monotony and rhythm that leads to these special milestones. They can’t be rushed or prolonged. They just happen when everything aligns and the time is right.
I recently had my infant weighed at my final postpartum visit. And as silly as it sounds, I almost cried when the scale said she weighed over eleven pounds. Of course she’d gained weight over the course of six weeks, but I couldn’t imagine how my little girl could already be so “big.”
Just like that, things had changed. My perspective had changed.
I’ll cherish those “firsts” and “lasts” (as they only seem to come faster and faster), but I don’t want to miss out on the everyday, gradual journey. The sun up to sundown. The messy and the sweet. This out-of-sync routine that I’m in is my rhythm for now. And I can’t wish it away.
So as I reflect on nature’s rhythms, I want to encourage you, mamas, no matter what stage you’re in, join me in cherishing the day-to-day, as well as the big events.
And as the moon passes over the sun on August 21, hug your littles (or your not-so-littles) tight.