She wore only a diaper and laid comfortable against my chest, slightly tucked inside my nightgown as I sat on the hospital bed still hooked up to machines.
I had had an severe allergic reaction to the bandaging used after my c-section, but that didn’t matter. This little girl against my chest, all 7 lbs 11 ounces of her, was now my life.
I was now a mother and this was the greatest title I could ever take on in my life. I was now responsible for a life beyond my own.
That was almost five years ago.
Now we are not only approaching her fifth birthday, but she will be starting kindergarten at the end of August.
I am amazed at the young lady she has become. She talks. Oh, she can talk. But she has a vocabulary you would never imagine from a child so young. She uses words like “trepidation” properly. She has also mastered the art of sarcasm… this could cause a problem.
She loves dancing, tumbling and soccer. She wants to get more into swimming and gymnastics. She loves music (we’re still not sure if she sings like me or like my grandma – if you know us you know the spectrum that is). She wants to learn to play guitar. She loves art and has said that she would like to be an artist when she grows up and be a children’s book illustrator. Maybe one day I will write a book and she will draw the pictures.
She is incredibly compassionate. This past week I donated blood to the Red Cross. I’m not sure she completely understood what I was doing. After they hooked me up she came and handed me her beloved teddy bear and told me she hoped I would feel better soon.
She has an infectious personality. It is hard not to smile when she is around.
I am incredibly proud of the young lady my baby girl is becoming. But as she nears her fifth birthday and the start of kindergarten, I struggle with being ready to let go of my baby and embrace my young lady.
I still see the tiny baby. I still see the little girl who would stand up from the middle of the floor and the when she lost her balance wouldn’t fall on her bottom but instead slid slowly to the ground using her face (she spent a good two months with rug burns on her face while learning to walk). I still see the tiny girl who would stand in front of the alter while I helped prepare music for church.
And now standing before me is not a baby or toddler, but a girl. A girl who will grow faster than I am ready to accept. A girl with her own passions and interests. I know I will always see that baby even when I watch her graduate from high school I will still hear in my mind her saying “uh oh, it dips-appeared” when something was no longer where she left it.
Where I once held a baby… I now have a beautiful, passionate, compassionate, wonderful young lady.