The ties that bind

I was lying on the couch reading to my kids the other morning (read: them lying on top of me) when it occurred to me a time will come when I will no longer have unlimited access to such physical affection and our bodies will not mesh in such an easy display of closeness. Right now so much of their care is physical - bathing, dressing, changing diapers - I know every freckle on their skin and hair on their heads as if their bodies were an extension of my own. But this will all change, fade away.

Soon the first thing my kids seek out in the morning will not be physical contact with me. There won't be anymore Sunday mornings when the girls are delighted to find me still in bed so we can have a snuggle, their warm bodies wriggling to start the day, still carrying the warm scent of their sleep. My baby grabbing onto me as I lift him out of his crib, both his hands frantically circling my neck, bicycling his little legs as if he just can't get close enough will soon be just a memory. There will be a time when their first priority after long separations will not be hugging me. Right now there is nothing better than the look of sheer joy when I pick my daughters up from school - running to me faces lit up, arms outspread, squealing, "Mommeeeee!" - or my baby's sheer joy simply when I re-enter the room, his face brightening with a stroke of his cheek. Holding my children tight to me I still remember what it felt like to have each of them inside me - whose feet stuck under which side of my rib cage and who kicked when I ate too many popsicles. Our relationship will begin to lose its primal physicality and this makes me so sad.

This gradual process, this letting go, is a natural part of growing up, but I will miss the way my children resemble baby chimps - going off on their own for bits of time, but always returning to me for a touch, a hug, a kiss. It's hard for me to imagine a time when they won't be fighting over who gets to sit in my lap. A time when I will walk, hands empty, instead of holding theirs. I will try to remember this on days when I feel like someone has been on me all day - holding, carrying, nursing - days when I need some space. Soon there will be too much space between us, the bodies I created will be theirs entirely, surrounded by an invisible barrier that stops me from grabbing them and holding them simply because I need to . But I hope they will know I am here anytime they need me, arms wide open, as if to welcome them back to the body they once called home.