It’s so tough to put into words how I’m feeling. This time, thirteen years ago, Dreama was inside my body. I treasured every kick, every movement, and the highlight of my month was to hear her heartbeat at my appointment – music to my ears. I wanted nothing more than to be a Mommy and looked forward to holding her in my arms in late October/early November that year. Never can I imagine not feeling connected to her, not unconditionally loving her or missing her when she’s not close.
Fast forward to today. That little peanut was born two weeks past her due date on November 12, 2003, weighing 8lbs, 5oz. Over the years, she has blossomed into an intelligent, gorgeous, confident (almost) teenager. We’ve poured love, discipline and a few doses of reality into these past years and are so proud of who she is. That being said, she’s away at church youth camp this week and they are “unplugged”. We have no contact (unless there’s an emergency) and I’ve cried every day. A piece that’s been with me and a part of our household for years and years, is missing. She’s out in the world, making her own memories apart from us and growing in a way that’s separate from us. It feels so foreign. My baby girl is growing up and it’s painful for me to watch from the sidelines – knowing that in a few short years this will be permanent. She’ll go off to college, maybe do a few church missions around the globe and I’ll be here waiting for a call or refreshing my online feed for updated pictures.
How am I going to “let go”? My children are my joy and I can’t imagine them moving more than fifteen minutes away, ever. *sigh*