Learning from Regret

A lot of people say "No regrets!" like they really have no regrets in their life.

I just don't understand that.

Because I have regrets. Boy howdy, do I!

One of my biggest regrets is not getting it with my first baby.

I didn't get how fast he would grow. I didn't get how fleeting that time was. I didn't get how perfect he was. I didn't get how lucky I was.

I liked being a mom well enough and I knew it was important, but I didn't really get it.

With my second I started to get it more.

I enjoyed it more, I reveled longer. It began to define me.


Lately I like to sit in my chair of many colors to nurse Jared Carter. When he's sufficiently drunken with goodness, I put my feet up on my ottoman and sit him up to pat some burps out. I want to sit their all day. I want to squish his cheeks and make him smile. I want to make faces at him so he'll raise his expressive eyebrows at me. I want to tickle right between his ribs and his armpits to make him giggle uncontrollably. I want to pinch his fat tummy and poke at his cavernous belly button. And I want to kiss his neck 9 million times.

I could let the dishes pile up for weeks and let the big boys get muddy outside to their hearts' delight just to sit in that chair and love my squishy babe.

And I'll tell you what.

I would give anything to do the same with baby Blaine. It pains me to the core that I missed that with him.

I envy my friends who got it with their first.

I know it's all about hindsight and there's no point in dwelling on the past and I just need to love him now. But it still makes me sad.

'Cause this is the best.