Today was your “due date” six years ago. (Let’s all notice that your sixth birthday is not for 13 more days making me a very uncomfortable, impatient lady six years ago…) As I reflect on the past six years I am blown away by how much you have changed. And how much I have changed as well.
Two days ago you got your ears pierced and as I watched you pinch your face up in anticipation of the moment, my heart ached. You looked so big and yet so small in that chair all by yourself. My eyes leaked a little (maybe it was slightly more than a little) because I was so proud and so sad all at once.
Motherhood is this whole big jumble of juxtaposition. I love having babies, and I want them to transition well to full-sized humanhood, but then I miss holding my sweet milk-breathed, soft skinned, fuzzy-headed, smelling-like-baby-wash little ones. I want you to grow up well and I’m so proud when you do things like write your name, share with your brothers without being asked, and graduate from Kindergarten. But then my heart breaks a little because it’s all too fast, too quick, too much without warning.
I’ll go ahead and apologize for crying in public in Claire’s. I’m sorry, sweet girl, if that embarrassed you. And here’s a few more since I’m sure it won’t be the last time: I’m sorry I can’t control these emotions sometimes about your growing up and getting big, I’m sorry I’ll probably cry again next time you reach some milestone, I’m sorry I can’t keep my junk together and keep my tears inside. Motherhood is just like that. It wrecks me. In such a good, beautiful way.
Maybe one day you’ll have a little red-headed girl who’ll pick out her own clothes, start wearing lip gloss and painting her nails, and pick out her own earrings for getting her ears done, and you’ll know why I cried. Because you’ll reach up and feel tears wet on your own smiling cheeks.