I imagine it to feel like a butterfly emerging from its chrysillis. The life I once knew has changed forever. I will never be the same. Everything is beautiful, yet strange. I used to have a routine. A regular rythym. Carpool, homework, dance class, theater rehearsal, Bible study and more homework. Plan meals, plan play dates, plan a little down time. Kisses goodnight. Kisses goodbye. Kisses to make the boo-boo go away. Sleepless nights. Endless days. Sticky everything and crumbs everywhere. The house buzzed with energy.
My heart was so full.
All the little girls who dream of growing up to be a mommy never dream of when it’s all over.
I am left with a wide open calendar and dreams so young they haven’t even been born yet. They’re barely a twinkle in my eye. I know this isn’t the end of anything, just a transition. At least that is what people tell me. Well meaning people who have actually lived through this grief. I admire those people.
My girls’ childhood is gone. Now their laughter echos down the hallway and family dinners are an occasion, not the norm. I expect not to see my children – my young adults – more than I expect they will come around. And when they do I have to restrain myself from squishing them so hard their guts fall out. Will I ever not want to hold my child?
And, gosh they are so independant and planning some really amazing things for their lives. Each one following Jesus along the way. I could not be more proud of the women they grew up to be.
But, somewhere along the way I missed the last tickle fight. I didn’t realize it was the last time they woke me up for a drink of water, or to comfort them from a scary dream. When did I stop making mac n cheese or cutting their sandwiches into triangles? I somehow slipped by the last time they wanted me to braid their hair.
Motherhood is just plain hard. There is nothing easy about it at all. It’s constantly changing and there is no owner’s manual. One day I will be ok and be able to look back without tears in my eyes. But, I’m not there yet and that’s ok. For now I find quiet places to talk to Jesus and my therapist. I play my music extra loud and do things that calm my spirit. I’m still emerging from my chrysillis and waiting to see how the rest of this one beautiful life unfolds.