Does Every Year Of Our Children Growing Older Get Sadder?

Every year, I have what my kids call “Mom’s Annual Cry.” It’s the day I get their school pictures back and put them in the eight by 10 frames that hang in our hallway. No past picture has ever been removed. So as the new one goes in, I spread them across our dining room table: a parade of my children’s past selves. I revisit iconic past looks: the year my son cut his own bangs right before picture day. The year my daughter wore an enormous pink bow the size of their head and her great-grandma’s fake pearls. I think about what they were interested in at those ages. Third grade, the year my son had a cowlick sticking straight up, he was watching How to Train Your Dragon series non-stop. As I look at my daughter’s preschool photo, in a Tangled dress and a bob, smiling impishly, I recall they used to pronounce “remember” as “bemember.”

And every year, over photos of my ever-aging children, I sob and hug them while they laugh (kindly). They’re happy tears… mostly. The gentle tug of sadness that pulls on us as our children grow up is something that Reddit user u/Positive_Age_181 recently brought up on r/Parenting.

“Does every year of your child growing older get sadder?” they ask. u/Positive_Age_181 of course knows it’s a privilege to watch their daughter grow up, but in many ways the experience is bittersweet and even painful.

I’m just sad about watching her become more grown up. She’s turning two soon. I thought turning one was heart breaking but two is something else. Toddlers are hard work but god she’s cute. … I feel like with time going this fast I’ll forget about this all soon and/or it will be a distant memory. It really makes me sad.

Fortunately, fellow redditors were full of wisdom, commiseration, and good advice.

“Because that version of them suddenly ceases to exist,” replies u/offensivecaramel29. “They change so rapidly that you are constantly introduced to a new version, a beautiful & magical (sometimes very draining) version of your precious babe, and the rate that this goes is so fast that you feel like you’re likely questioning your sanity at times. It is absolutely overwhelming & incredibly bittersweet. How privileged we are to experience any length of time with these souls.”

“It’s like reading a really good book,” muses u/colbinator. “You want each chapter to last forever but you also want to watch the story develop, the characters deepen, the adventures to continue.”

“I’m the exact opposite,” offers u/thegimboid. “I’ll always have that little version of my [3-year-old] daughter in photos, videos, and memories. But there’s always something new — I’m incredibly excited to see who she’ll become, what things she’ll learn next, where she’ll go … Every year is new and intriguing, and there’s always new adventures for me to witness as she grows.”

“The best version of my kid is the current one” says u/Ebice42 wisely. “Because that’s the one I get to play with today.”

Certainly, watching elements of their baby years slip under the surface of their increasingly grown up faces and attitudes and demeanors is hard for those of us who loved those babies. But take it from someone with a teen and a tween: while there’s a time and a place for “Mom’s Annual Cry,” there are so many conversations, quirks, and adventures you don’t even know to look forward to yet. There’s as much joy ahead of us as behind.

This article was originally published on scarymommy.com.