The other day as I was dressing them in their matching penguin footed pajamas, my boy said, “DESE ARE TOO SMALL MAMA. WE NEED BIGGER ONES.” As I laughed and said, “Oh you are going to be wearing these until your feet bust through”, I thought, it won’t be all that long before they aren’t wearing footie pajamas at all. Before they are dressing themselves.
“WHY DESE JAMMIES TOO SMALL MAMA? WE BIGGER NOW?”
“Yes, you are bigger and bigger every day, do you know why?”
“WE EAT ALL OUR FOOD AND SLEEP A LOT.”
“That’s right.”
“I GONNA MISS DESE JAMMIES.”
“I know. It’s hard when you are too big to wear some of your favorite clothes. But the good thing is you are growing big and strong and healthy. But you know what will always fit? Mommy jammies will always fit.”
“MOMMY JAMMIES WHATS MOMMY JAMMIES.”
“Mommy jammies are when mommy wraps her arms around you and gives you a great big hug. No matter how big you get, mommy jammies will always fit.”
They both laughed and we tickled and giggled about it, but I thought, isn’t it true though? As we are pregnant with them we cradle them, all protected and warm and safe.

Even through adoption or surrogacy, they all had that warmth and protection. Then into our loving arms they arrived, no matter their journey there, they were wrapped in lovingly made blankets and all-encompassing tenderness. As they grow we keep them swaddled and ensconced in a cocoon of toasty goodness and they feel around their entire being, a halo of loving care. As they grow a little more, we shower them with kisses and hugs, hugs so tight that they often times beg to be set free. As long as they keep coming back.
Mommy jammies will always fit.
Today as I do their laundry – an activity I find incredibly soothing and comforting and satisfying — by the way WHO KNEW — I fold each pair of pajamas more carefully. More thoughtfully. More presently. Because these jammie days will not last forever.
Each time I dress them in their clean, getting a tad more threadbare with each wash and wear jammies, I take a moment. Pajamas seem more vulnerable. More precious than other clothes somehow. Where their dreams happen and where they literally grow overnight.
Aren’t we all most vulnerable in our jammies? At night when the rest of the world is asleep and we have taken off our face the world armor and we are sad or longing or missing or just plain so thankful for our lives that it makes us weep. We have so much.
I take a lot of moments lately. And while it seems incredibly precious and too much and even silly at times, I want to remember. I don’t want to forget this. So I practice being present and conscious. And it does take practice. I say thank you often. It’s so so so good.
Take comfort in the fact that even though you may sob like your babies as you fold those jammies for the last time either to keep or to give away to another baby, your mommy jammies will last forever. If we are really lucky, we are all around a good long time to savor each one. Even as we grow smaller and they grow bigger than life itself, we can always fold them into us. They know they are always welcome.
Mommy jammies will always fit.
I think of wrapping my arms around my little mama and though I tower over her, I am still her baby. I am always welcome and most at home and loved in her. The balance is in the giving enough space that they always want to come back.

We can feel their weight upon us and know that they are with us. Long after they walk away to go play or go to school or go to their own separate lives. Even as our bodies change and our lives alter so much that we barely recognize each other at times, they are magical – these mommy jammies – and they will always fit.
See also:
That’s why I’m here: On Vulnerability and Courage and Gratitude
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