She lay with her legs wrapped around my waist. Her belly pressed against mine. Head resting on my chest. Arms dangling around my neck. I wiped tired tears from her eyes. We sat on the floor in my basement as I held her. As I held her the way “only you know how to hold me mommy”. It’s the way I’ve been holding her for six years. When she’s fallen and bumped her knee. Or her ego. When she’s had her feelings hurt by a friend. When she’s drained and doesn’t know whether to laugh or cry. When everyone else seems preoccupied with life not concerning her. She comes to me. Wraps her body around me as if she has 12 arms and legs.
Today as I held her in this special way I choked down tears realizing it really has been six years since that day. The day I went to work 9 months pregnant thinking I’d just finish out the week and then have my new first baby. But surprisingly went to bed that night in the hospital with this new little girl resting on my chest. A girl. A dream. A miracle.
Six years. So much time. That feels like so little. She flew into my life and captured me, engulfed me, so quickly and with such force. And the years are now flying by. I try to live the moments with her. Enjoy the minutes. “Be Present”. But some days I want to scream that I’m losing my grip. It’s going to fast. As if I’m holding onto a rope with a mighty grip but it’s burning the palms of my hands as it pulls me through the days. The years.
Six years. My baby. My big girl.
I was grateful that she still climbed onto me in her tired state tonight. For a hug. A place to rest her head. A comfortable spot to (still) suck her thumb. I told her in that moment that she’ll always be my baby. Even with her baby brother trailing behind.
Six years. I hope I have a few more years of those spider hugs ahead of me. A few more years of her groping for my hand amidst chaos. Because it’s getting harder. To handle her growing older. To realize I need to be a stronger mom. Not so much a friend. I’m better at the friend thing.
I sit here as I type crying. Because I realize as I write this that so many of you were right in comments from past posts where I complained of the hardships I had with Hannah as a four year old. A five year old. You said, “Enjoy these years. It only gets harder.” I didn’t want to believe you.
You were right. It is getting harder. I DO miss four year old Hannah already. Her innocence. Her needing only me. Wanting only me. Never lashing out at me. Just appreciating me.
So, yet another resolution. To ENJOY the minutes this year. Seek out the special moments of Six.
Six years. Here’s to it being the best year yet.
And Happy Birthday to my Girl. My cartwheeling, constantly drawing, book reading, purple loving, Taylor Swift singing, newly skating, fearless sledding, crazy ticklish, amazingly doting, friend seeking, soynut butter and jelly eating, fancy, thoughtful, loving, dramatic, convincing, hand holding, best hugging, Beautiful Big Girl.