Lost teeth and first days

For years I dismissed their cliches of birds leaving nests and wings found as thoughts to ponder in later days. But your first loose tooth came and I could see your face was about to change. And maybe it was the symbol of permanence that comes with baby teeth lost forever, but suddenly I was awakened to what is happening, what has been happening since the day you were born. I’m letting you go.

With each new leap, new turn, new path you take, I can feel the ground shifting and moving somewhere far beneath me mirroring what is taking place right before my eyes. My heart stretches with all its might for things to stay the same, attempting to resist the inevitable. But who can stop the leaves from changing colour as brisker winds usher in new seasons? Who can hold back the tide as it retreats to deeper waters? Who am I to say you’re mine to hold onto forever? It’s the circle of life, this letting go, made of sweetness and bitterness alike. A slow, subtle, steady process of releasing and trusting then repeating it all over again. In small ways everyday, I am learning to join in with its rhythm.

One.

I kneel down next to your bed for a moment as I tuck you in. Watching your chest rise and fall, a familiar pattern that has solaced the ebbs and flows of this mama’s heart for six years. I study the way your freckles follow your dimples as you smile in your sleep, no doubt chasing the end of a far-off rainbow. The ticking of the clock outside your room gently brings me back to reality reminding me that time will not wait for me to be ready. So I’ll take a deep breath and let go a little. I’ll watch you from a distance as you become who you were made to be, always in awe that you have been mine.

Two.

We start off jogging together, our footsteps in unison creating a beat that is soothing to my soul. I feel your fingers slip from mine as your pace quickens. My instinct is to stay on your heels but something holds me back. Instead, I watch you proudly stride ahead, a glorious sight to behold in your knee-high mermaid socks with the wind in your hair, stopping for nothing. I’ll always be chasing after you, trying to keep up. But I know in order to keep you close, you must be able to run ahead and find strength in your freedom. So I’ll take a deep breath and let go a little more. I’ll watch you from a distance, glowing with pride as you strive for incredible things.

Three.

My eyes follow you like a hawk as you ascend into the ‘big kids’ realm of the playground, your newfound bravery both amazing and terrifying all at the same time. From your perch above, you glance down at me with your big, blue, heartbreaker eyes honing in on my location and making sure I’m within view. You move out of my reach and my mind flashes back to that morning I first held you, never imagining a time you could be out of my arms. You’re safe now too, but I’m no longer in control. A status I’ll have to become increasingly acquainted with in the days ahead. So I’ll take a deep breath and let go a little more. I’ll watch you from a distance as you explore and let you find your place in this big, wild world.

The days and months roll by with remarkable speed, turning over into years. Therefore I must pause at all these miniature milestones of firsts and lasts, letting myself celebrate with ceremonies of tears. For it’s here, in these moments, where the beauty of the past collides tangibly with all the anticipation and hope for your futures that I know you’re going to be okay. So I’ll take a deep breath, let you go again and then watch you change the world.