Crippling Nostalgia

Two birthday party invites.  Two dress up parties to attend.  My girls are growing, but they all appreciate an opportunity to dress up.  Saturday approaches, we open the Rubbermaid bin full of princess attire.  The box sends up a familiar scent.  A scent of Pedia-Sure and stomach acid fills the room. (Allow me to explain.  Raychel LIVED for dressing up during that magical 3-5 year old age range.  She also had a g-tube during these years.  Because of that direct line to her stomach, there was always some “leakage”.  Try as I might, there’s just no erasing that smell from any fabric…even many years later).  The fake satin and bolts of tulle haven’t been exposed to outside air in a while, that’s very apparent/potent.  The decision making commences.  None of the dresses fit.  Not that they’re just a little snug.  They will not Velcro.  The dresses barely come to their knees.  I panic.  I cannot let my girls go without costume to these parties.  I run to Goodwill.  As I’m driving, I am literally crippled with nostalgia.  I think of each of those dresses.  I think of my mom buying them all.  For birthdays.  Rewards for medical procedures.  Because it was Wednesday and she felt like buying a Snow White dress for Anna.  I think of Raychel eating vanilla ice cream in her Aurora party dress each morning before pre-k.  That smell.  That g-tube smell.  All those long, hard, completely blissful years are now over.  This is reality.  Tears sting the corners of my eyes.  My eyes fill and the tears start rolling down my cheeks.  I’m blinking frantically.  I can’t crash the car and claim “nostalgia” as the cause of the accident.  I am sad.  Heart breaking sad.  Can’t catch my breath sad.  What is this a weird feeling?  Why am I sad about princess dresses?  Do other mothers feel this?  Does my mom feel this?  My girls are growing, and I have no control over it.  It's affecting me physically.  That chapter is closed, and I wasn't even given a warning! 

I loved every milestone my babies reached.  You can hold your head up…great.  You can hold your bottle…even better.  You can tell me what’s hurting…best day ever.  I never felt sad about those stages coming to an end.  I felt proud and happy they were growing, and ultimately making my life somewhat easier.  I’m not happy, however, about this phase of childhood coming to a close.  You don’t really and truly believe you’re a princess…sad face.  You feel embarrassed by your juvenile obsession with Tinkerbell…do not like.  There’s physical evidence of your maturity since you don’t even fit in those frilly dresses…full on depression.

I remember watching my girls one Sunday playing outside.  Anna and Leah must have been 3, and Raychel was 5.  I stood smiling as they giggled and chased each other in those plastic high heels and strings of cheap beads.  Their little, high pitched voices calling for each other.  That image, that sound, that pure happiness is emblazoned in my mind and heart.  I love being their mother.  I thank the Lord every day for this remarkable opportunity.  I am grateful for the precious time that has gone by.  I am thankful for the experiences yet to come.  Elder Jeffrey R. Holland is quoted saying, “Tears are alright.  They are the price we pay for love, care and compassion in the world.”