If I could wish for one thing every day, it would be more time with my daughter while she’s still young. Every moment feels fleeting, and I often wonder how different things might have been if I had more time to spend with her in these early years. She’s only two years and one month old now, but it already feels like time has slipped through my fingers.
When she was just nine months old, I went back to work. It was a decision I had to make, but one I regret deeply. There were moments—precious, irreplaceable moments—that I missed. Her first steps, her first words, the little discoveries she made each day. While I was away, those moments happened without me, and even though my husband and I had planned our parental leave carefully, there’s always that nagging feeling that I could have had more time with her.
We had a thoughtful arrangement. I took seven months of parental leave, plus two months of maternity leave, making it a total of nine months with her before I returned to work. After that, my husband took over for another seven months. We wanted to make sure she had both of us during her first critical year and beyond. Time moves only forward—we cannot slow it down or turn it back. That’s why we planned it this way, so we could both have the chance to be present in her early life.
But even with this arrangement, I still wish I had more time. The thought lingers every day. What if I had stayed home longer? What if I had been there for every single moment? What if we were in a position where neither of us had to work to pay the bills? If only we were wealthy enough, we could both stay home with her, never missing a single milestone.
Then again, I remind myself that she also needs to grow in ways that we alone cannot provide. She started attending Kita at 18 months old, and to my relief, she adjusted well. She is excited when she’s there, playing and learning with other children, and just as excited when we come to pick her up. It reassures me to see her happy, knowing she’s developing in a social environment. I remind myself that perhaps this is all happening for a reason. If I had kept her home longer, she might have missed out on the friendships and experiences she’s gaining now.
Still, I can’t help but worry. Is she always safe? Is she well taken care of? Are the caregivers as gentle and loving as I would be? These thoughts cross my mind every day as I work, knowing that I’m not there to see what’s happening. I trust the caregivers, but no one can ever truly replace a parent’s love.
Each afternoon when we pick her up, I try to make the most of our time together. I cherish the way she runs to me with her tiny arms outstretched, the way she excitedly tells me—often in fragmented toddler sentences—about her day. I listen to every little word, watch every little expression, and hold onto those moments as tightly as I can.
Some nights, after she’s gone to bed, I sit quietly and think about how quickly she’s growing. I look at her old photos, the ones from when she was just a newborn, and I realize how much has changed in such a short time. It feels like just yesterday that I held her for the first time, and now she’s running, talking, and developing her own little personality. The days are long, but the years are short—this saying has never felt truer.
As much as I wish I had more time, I also remind myself to focus on the time I do have. It’s easy to dwell on the moments I missed, but I try to be fully present for the moments I still have. Every hug, every bedtime story, every laugh we share—it all matters. These are the memories I am building with her now, and these are the moments that she will carry with her as she grows.
I have come to accept that while I may not have as much time as I wish, I can make the time I do have meaningful. Instead of regretting the past, I choose to be present in the now. I choose to give her my full attention when we are together, to soak in every giggle, every cuddle, and every sleepy “goodnight, Mommy.”
Maybe there is a reason for everything. Maybe this is the balance we were meant to find. She has her experiences at Kita, learning, growing, and making friends. And when she comes home, she has me, my husband, and our love waiting for her. It’s not about the quantity of time, but the quality of it.
Still, if I could have just one thing more each day, it would be time. More time to watch her grow, more time to hear her laughter, more time to simply be with her. But since I can’t stop time, I will do my best to cherish every second I do have. Because one day, she will be grown, and I will look back on these days, hoping that I made the most of every precious moment.
How about you? What do you wish you could do more every day?
