Some thoughts I’ve been having. This is still is not quite right, but it’s the closest thing I can come to articulating how I feel:
There’s a weird finality to your life once you become a parent. It’s as if your mortality, which has always existed as a kind philosophical conundrum, is now vivid and tangible in the face of your successor, the being you have brought forth out of your very own body and whom you spend every waking moment of your time and effort to foster and cherish. It’s suddenly quite clear that they are the future and you are the past and that your time is nearly over, while their’s is just beginning. And yet, it makes every moment or your life worth-while and your death, merely a strand in Existence, in Life Itself. It’s humbling and beautiful and makes you feel incredibly small and yet so huge at the same time. It is our responsibility as the current caretakers to leave those who will come after us, with a world they can be proud of us for.