I didn't cry because I was in pain, not really. I didn't get poked with a needle. I didn't have any broken bones. I wasn't even sick. But there I sat, overcome for just a moment, wiping away my tears.
I was visiting the doctor with my oldest daughter, Emma. Emma just turned 18 last month. In just a few weeks she will be going off to college. I am not comfortable with my child moving away. I have not been comfortable with this idea for a long time.
I looked up at Emma, sitting on the exam table, waiting for the doctor to come in, and I had this moment of realization that this was most likely the last time I would take my now adult child to see the pediatrician. For some reason this struck me hard! How many times had I taken my little girl to see the doctor? How many times had I prepped her before hand for the shot I knew would be scary for her. How many times had I comforted her and held her close to ease the pain. How many earaches and sore throats and trips to get ice-cream afterward for being brave. She was all grown up and moving away, and I broke down.
I'm a little embarrassed to admit that the doctors office meltdown wasn't a solitary event. I have been having these moments of realization for months. They tend to come without warning. A few months ago, I broke down while standing in the pantry, because I heard that beautiful song by Sara Bareilles, "She Used To Be Mine". The lyrics struck me instantly:
She is messy, but she's kind.
She is lonely most of the time
She is all of this mixed up and baked in a beautiful pie
She is gone, but she used to be mine.
"She's gone but she used to be mine."
I know I'm not the first mom, to have a child grow up and move out. I guess I've known all along that this day would come...I just didn't think it would all happen so fast.
This is the girl that made me a mom for the first time. I remember her, brand new, all eyes and long, dark brown hair that stuck straight up. I remember her two years old, and obsessed with My Fair Lady, The Sound of Music, and twirly dresses. I remember her five, all at once excited and painfully shy, going to her first day of Kindergarten. I remember her at eight, bedtime spent reading Anne Of Green Gables, together, her love of reading and books. I remember her at 12, middle school, playing the violin, and her Broadway themed birthday party. I remember her at 16, living and loving the theatre, acting in her first production, discovering her talents. I remember her at 18, confident, beautiful, strong, ready to take on the world.
Emma IS ready to leave home. I know that. I'll miss her, but I am happy for her. I am happy. Even if I cry uncontrollably in public sometimes.
I love you, Emma! Thank you for 18 years of expanding my comfort zone, in happy, happy, ways!
Today's a new day, let's make it purposeful!
Mom
Oh, Kara..this brought tears to me too. Love your writings, your Emma, and you! :)
ReplyDeleteThank you, my sweet friend! Love you!
ReplyDeleteOh no! I am now bawling...I could rival you in this department! How tender and wonderful and hard and painful this all is. I'll keep you in my prayers, because thats sometimes all us moms can do. You've got to feel so proud too, of the job you've done, and its not over, its just annoying they have to continue living so far away. She's amazing and the memories you shared here are beautiful. She's an incredible young woman!
ReplyDeleteOh no! I am now bawling...I could rival you in this department! How tender and wonderful and hard and painful this all is. I'll keep you in my prayers, because thats sometimes all us moms can do. You've got to feel so proud too, of the job you've done, and its not over, its just annoying they have to continue living so far away. She's amazing and the memories you shared here are beautiful. She's an incredible young woman!
ReplyDelete