I know, Mom. It’s hard.
She’s wearing a cap and a gown.
But you see a newborn in a blanket.
A little girl in a ponytail.
Little hands holding yours.
It’s all wrapped up in this moment and you can see it all at once, flashing before your eyes at lightening speed.
You can barely catch your breath.
People came and went. Seasons passed by.
Through it all you were the constant.
You held close, wiped tears, whispered comfort.
You picked up, dusted off, sent her on her way.
It feels like you are losing her.
It’s unsettling, unnerving, turning your world upside down.
But, really and truly, nothing is changing.
When she needs to be held, needs to be comforted, needs to remember whose always been there – she’ll still reach for you.
It feels like something is ending, but actually something is beginning.
And that something is going to be amazing.