Bring Back Big Families

I’m not an overly emotional person. I know a lot of that has to do with how I was raised and what I endured as a kid where emotions just weren’t part of my everyday life. I do get sad and upset, though, and when I do, I always shed my tears in private. I don’t know why exactly. It’s just how I am.

But I watched this video on Instagram tonight (if you’re a parent, watch at your own risk), and for whatever reason in that moment, I started crying. I laid there in bed with my youngest son surrounded by my other three boys. And I cried. Hard.

My mind went to my daughter who is twelve now. I don’t remember the last time I actually held her. I hug her everyday, sure, but I honestly don’t remember the actual last time I held her. Like really held her.

Then my mind went to the baby. Of course, I held her today. But my boys? I gave them piggy back rides from bed to the breakfast table, but even that’s not really holding, not like in the video anyway.

And I think that’s what broke my heart. I will pick up the littler ones, the ones six and under, but even then I’m not fully sure that I’m really holding them.

And then I realized I haven’t actually held either of my older two in a long, long time.

And my heart broke again.

And the tears came again.

So I don’t know how to process it tonight other than to write this. The tears have left me know, but the hurt I felt made me think of the fact that I haven’t held, really held, my kids in a long time. I hug them and I carry them, sure, but I don’t actually hold them anymore.

And as I think about that, I only have one thought: I have to do it until I can’t anymore. And whenever that last time comes, I don’t think I want to know it’s the last time. I want to keep thinking I can hold them forever, even when I know I can’t.

Hold your kids. Really hold them. Hold them as often as you can. I know I need to take my own advice.

And I hope I do.