Did my child just call me 'Knucklehead'?

January 5, 2005

There is a moment in a parent's life where they realize their child has changed. Having spoken to my mother over the years, I know this moment is filled with a combination of happiness at growth, and sadness over what was lost. As a teenager, I can remember talking with her about a nickname I did not like, which my father called me with great frequency. She told me that he called me that because I called myself by the name when I was 2 or 3, and that it was his way of keeping that baby in his life.

Of the experiences I have had, seeing my son grow from a very small baby to a toddler, this past weekend, I found out that my baby is not a baby anymore. At three he walks, runs, talks, has a sense of humor, doesn't like his hair ruffled and while being ticklish doesn't like to be tickled. He really looks at things, and sees them for what they are instead of the baby way of looking at things because they are new or colorful, or move. Sitting at lunch, his father asked me if he seemed different, and then commented that he's not a baby anymore. And I realized while I was sitting there, that he wasn't. He is a kid.

My parents moved from their house a few years ago, and their new house is much smaller. When they moved, my mother and I went through all my childhood memorabilia to see if there was anything I wanted right away, or didn't want at all. There so many things in the box I didn't remember at all. I held up this ragged stuffed lamb, that played a very rusty musical box version of 'Mary had a little lamb.' I remember owning the toy, but I didn't really know why we kept it. My mother told me that I loved that toy more than anything else when I was a baby. I realized looking through the box that the things I had been given when I was 3 or 4 were already at my apartment, they were specific memories. The lamb was part of a baby's life that I didn't remember.

I have given Anthony clothing, his baby blanket, toys and stuffed animals. But he won't remember them later. He won't remember me as part of them. From now on though, he will; I am part of his memories.

As a birth parent, part of him becoming a kid isn't so much about him not needing a parent for everything. He can reach over and get french fries without help, he can drink (mostly without assistance). He can talk and get around, and knows what part of the playground he wants to be in. But he didn't need me for those things before, so what is it that changed in my heart because he's not a baby? Does anything change?

The answer is yes, something changes. I realized it more and more as the week went by, and that there was something felt different when I thought about him. It took me a little while of thinking, but then I realized what it is to me: babies don't remember. Kids do. This is part of an open adoption that really matters. He won't remember me holding him at the hospital, or learning to walk at the park. But he will remember what we do from now on. He has pictures, and stories about him being a baby, but the memories of me from his childhood start now.

But it's not just memories, I realize. The other part of being a kid, is being your own person. Part of the reason I placed him in adoption was so that he could grow up to be anything, to be healthy, and happy. So that he had the best chance of becoming the fantastic person I know he will be. The kind of person I hope for him to be, I can't wait to see how that person grows.