Letting Go

I parked in my usual spot in the parking lot a little earlier than usual. The final bell of the year rang, followed by a wave of kaki and blue uniforms sprinting through the front door. I spotted her in the middle of her group of friends, her brunette hair separating her from her blonde peers.

My mind raced to the day she was born, so tiny and fragile, but with lungs so loud they could wake up the whole neighborhood.  Flashes of sleep deprived nights and diaper changes invaded my mind. In my young mom immaturity, I longed to see the light at the end of the dark tunnel of exhaustion. I wanted her to be more independent so that I could have a little more freedom.

“Stop waiting for her to grow up!” a friend suggested as we pushed our babies’ strollers to the park.

“What do you mean?” I said a little annoyed at the comment. “Once she sleeps through the night, I might get rid of these awful dark circles under my eyes. And, as soon as she stops breastfeeding, I can go on an actual date with my husband. And, when she starts going to school, I’ll be able to go keep up with all the cleaning and the laundry!”

My friend stopped and put a hand on my shoulder.

“I know how you feel.” She said. “I have two other children, remember? It seems life is turned upside down with a new baby and it’s overwhelming sometimes. But time goes fast, so just enjoy each stage they’re in because you’ll never get it back.”

Life went on and a couple of years later we were blessed with another daughter and later a son.  My little girl became a big sister who helped Mom with chores and taking care of her siblings. Before I knew it, she was playing soccer and going to the movies with her friends. And now, in the blink of an eye, she’s walking towards the car with a cap and gown in her hand.

When did she grow taller than me? When did she stop loving macaroni and cheese? When did she stopped watching Barney? Where did all the Beanie Babies go?

My friend’s advice from years past echoed in my head.

I tried to grasp all those memories, to keep her from growing up, but I realized I couldn’t. However, a closer look revealed that I belonged in those memories too. I held her when she was sick and insisted on watching 101 Dalmatians 101 times, I drove her to soccer games, Church events and concerts. I chaperoned her school trips and prayed with her when she was scared. I was part of every stage of her life.

A wave of loving resignation hugged my heart when I realized I did follow my friend’s advice. But the time had come for me to let go of my little girl and embrace my young lady. It was time for her to begin a journey of her own. It was time to stop walking ahead of her and walk beside her, just in case she needs me to hold her hand just one more time.