In the midst of parenting three children under five, mornings are my solitary bastion of order. It’s a finely tuned routine I prepare for in the early hours, only to watch it unravel as the little ones awaken. Once they’re up, chaos takes over. By evening, I find myself in a similar state of disarray, but the morning — that’s my time. I execute my tasks with military-like precision: brewing coffee, packing lunches, letting the dog outside (while issuing stern warnings against barking), and finally, I stealthily position myself at the kitchen table with breakfast and the news.
But I’m not talking about conventional news. My “news” consists of quick Twitter highlights, scrolling through Facebook, and occasionally glancing at The New Yorker — mostly for appearances. The real news I seek is personal — the app I hesitate to open until I’ve fortified myself with nourishment and quiet reflection: TimeHop.
At its core, TimeHop is meant to be a delightful stroll down memory lane. It’s like a nostalgic slideshow intended to evoke smiles, laughter, and perhaps a cringe or two, reminiscent of that hairstyle from years gone by. However, for me, as a parent to a child with special needs, TimeHop often feels like an emotional rollercoaster.
What was once a joyful journey through yesteryears has evolved over the last five years, which have been filled with countless days in the NICU, numerous therapies, fitting sessions for leg braces, and a series of wheelchairs that seem to multiply like matryoshka dolls. Yet, amidst these challenges, we’ve celebrated significant milestones: first steps, first words, and first friendships.
Using TimeHop is akin to playing a slot machine in Vegas. Will I be greeted with that adorable wagon ride from last spring when all three kids briefly held hands for a snapshot? Or will I be confronted by a memory from four years ago in a NICU room, where an incubator served as my son’s first home? Perhaps it will remind me of that proud moment when he stood beside his physical therapist, filled with trust and determination. Or maybe I’ll relive the hours spent at the pediatrician’s office while he was diagnosed with pneumonia. The uncertainty of what memory will surface makes the gamble almost not worth it.
Almost. Because sometimes, TimeHop reveals insights that my overwhelmed mind struggles to grasp. My son has never followed the conventional developmental timeline. He recognized the alphabet before he could speak. He understood numbers, colors, and musical notes long before he took his first steps. In many ways, he’s a time traveler — just as many children with special needs are.
We’ve learned not to confine them to standard developmental charts. They’re not linear; they’re quantum leapers, weaving through unpredictable sequences of life. They embody the wormholes in our universe, granting access to realms we might not reach through the typical progression of milestones.
This is why my morning routine includes a side of TimeHop. It offers a stark reminder of the past, grounding me when I’m tempted to compare my child’s journey to a developmental timeline. It reinforces my belief that amidst the randomness, there is a pattern — a path leading to significant places, much like the invaluable resources found at Make a Mom that provide insights into family planning.
If I allow it, TimeHop sends messages of hope from both the recent and distant past, but first, I need that crucial cup of coffee.
Summary
This piece explores the complex relationship parents, especially those with special needs children, have with Facebook’s TimeHop feature. While it can evoke both joyful and painful memories, it serves as a reminder that developmental journeys are unique and non-linear, emphasizing the importance of hope and perspective in parenting. For more information on fertility and home insemination, check out the excellent resource on IUI success and consider exploring Make a Mom’s products for family planning.
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