Phases

Some of the best advice I have received in dealing with my little Bubba is that “It’s a phase.” And it’s true. His only being able to sleep on Dad’s chest at night? A four month phase, which slowly morphed into being coaxed, every so slowly, into sleeping next to Dad. The waking up screaming at 4:00 every morning, needing to be walked around? A month-long phase. Wanting to nurse every two hours at night? A very long phase that has not ended. But it will, right? And not two years from now?

Unfortunately, some good things were just a phase, too. Like strapping Bubba in a bouncy chair outside the shower. Phase over and one of my biggest fears is coming true - it is very hard to get a shower. My only chance is to sneak it in is during his morning nap. And some really sweet phases are over, like Bubba looking up and smiling at me while he nurses. Now he’s too busy pinching, and figuring out how my shirt works.

The ending of some phases goes both ways. Having Bubba sleep in bed between my husband and me? I like it because I don’t have to get up to comfort him at night, and I don’t have to worry that he is safe or cold. And he loves it. But I long to fall asleep and wake up next to my husband. That will be so sweet, but it will also be so sad not to wake up to Bubba’s babbling and his smiling face.

I got to thinking that everything in life is a phase. I remember times in the past when I was so miserable, but they are now a distant memory. I wish the present me could have gone back and told the miserable me that I would be fine. The other day I was so ecstatic to be out walking by myself. I was beaming at the rare moments of freedom. But there were times I walked those same blocks, lonely, aimless. I tried to store the feeling of freedom in my memory banks for the days in the future when I might feel alone again. I want to remember to enjoy just being me.

I just wish I could figure out how to remember that “It’s just a phase” when I really need to. We do okay reminding ourselves that the precious times won’t last, and to savor them. We talk about the days there won’t be crushed Cheerios on the floor, and our home will be neat, and we know we will be sad because it will mean Bubba is gone. But in the hard times, when he is fighting sleep, and I feel like crying, too, how can I remind myself that this is just a phase?