Yesterday my oldest graduated from kindergarten. I watched her sing her songs, get her diploma and hug her friends. She had a great time, and I enjoyed watching her. It literally seems like a few weeks ago I brought her home from the hospital, full of fear and awe over what God had created, and I had carried, nourished and brought forth and was now entrusted with for the rest of my life.
The first night she was home, her dad and my husband, had to go back to work. He was working third shift back then, which meant we were home together for a few hours and then he headed off to work while I kept the new addition to our family from 10pm to 9am by myself. I was scared. She cried, and cried...and then cried some more. I didn't know what to do. I was tired, sore and above all I was terrified there was something wrong with her. It turns out she was adjusting to her new environment. Everything was fine by about 5am. I'm not sure she ever cried like that again. She was a fat, happy baby. She nursed well, reached her milestones early and generally made us smile and laugh often. She was, and is, a precocious, friendly kid; the kind who adapts easily to the environment around her and loves life.
Now that she's nearly 6 years old, she talks back, rolls her eyes and is still smart as a whip. The thing I enjoy the most...watching her when she doesn't know I'm watching. When she's playing pretend or talking to herself. I love seeing these moments, wandering what she will become. Who will she be? What will she do with her life? Will she ever know the depth of my love for her? More than anything I want for her, I want her to know she is loved. Unconditionally.
As a little girl, I never understood that. I'm sure I was loved, I just never felt it. I felt criticized and condemned. I felt alone a lot. As if I didn't quite fit anywhere.
So many dreams and hopes I have for my only daughter. I can't wait to see her where her life will lead her next. I'm glad I get to watch and listen.