Goodbye

I can feel it now. The walls are closing in on me. It's getting hard to breathe. I can't think straight. I tried denial, but it's time to face the truth. My BABY will be one year old in two weeks. I am beside myself. I have had so much going on lately that it's been easy to pretend it isn't happening. But the time has come. The party must be planned. I must pull myself together and get ready to celebrate this milestone that I so dread. I'm warning you... my happy face will be painted on.

If you think I'm exaggerating, picture this: The other day I had to run into the Hallmark store to get a few cards. I thought I would check out the first birthday cards while I was there. Cried. Right there in the aisle, looking at silly, sweet, kiddie birthday cards all about how far she has come and all she can do and how much she is loved, I cried. I bought one. While it will mean nothing to her now, this is what it says. A Letter For My Daughter On Her Birthday... Think of a mitten and a hand or the way tea fills the curve of a teacup. In the same way, there is a place in my life shaped like you. Before you came, I did not even know it was there. But afterward, I knew I had always had it, this quiet and waiting space in the middle of my heart that you, and only you, could fill. And even more than the day you came into my world... I love you.

I am desperate to make this child understand how much she is loved. What makes me so sad is that I don't think she ever will, or even can for that matter. As a mother now, I find myself thinking a lot more about how God relates to us. He is our Father, after all, and there are so many parallels. My current dilemma is the perfect example. In my head I know God loves me unconditionally, but I don't think I even know the half of it. I think it is beyond my comprehension exactly how He feels about me. And I know the same is true for my daughter. She has no idea how I feel about her, or what I would do for her. She has no idea how much she has changed my life and how much joy she brings me. If only I could make her understand. I wonder if God has the same frustration. Though he would have the power to, He will not force us to accept His love and love Him in return, even though He deserves it. It's frustrating. I pray that I will remember this feeling and give God His due, just as I pray my daughter will one day come to know how much I love her, how much I have done for her, and how much I would be willing to do for her, no matter the cost.

It's heavy and deep, this parenting business. While life was certainly easier before, it didn't have as much meaning. This new dimension, this daily task of raising a child, adds a new purpose to my life. Aside from my calling as a Christian to show God's love, this is the highest calling in my life, and the most challenging. And when you take the committment seriously, it changes you. I will never be the same, and I don't want to be. It's hard to remember a time when she wasn't here, even though it's only been a year. She is such a part of me now that I wonder how I got along without her before. What did I do all day, anyway? :) I wouldn't change a single minute of the last year. In fact, I would do it all again in a heartbeat. I think that is why this birthday is so difficult for me. It went by too fast. She grows too fast. I don't feel like I've had the chance to really enjoy each stage she is in before it's gone. And while each new stage is fun and exciting and adorable, I find myself mourning the loss of the baby she was. I worry that I'll forget. Like I said, it's just all happening so fast. There aren't enough hours in the day for me to feel like I've spent enough time with her. It's simple, really. I just love her too much. So much that it hurts. These moments we've spent together in the last year have been priceless. Every 'first' that in some small way I feel responsible for. Every new thing she is able to do, every inch grows, is exciting and celebrated. But each new beginning marks the end of something, too. The end of something that I loved. That's where the sadness comes from.

She has learned to hold her head up, roll over, sit up, crawl, and stand. She has gained pounds and inches, and even some hair. She has learned to feed herself finger foods and drink from a cup. She has developed a personality, with likes and dislikes all her own. Her myriad of facial expressions and sound effects is astounding! But I remember a different child altogether. I remember looking into the eyes of a newborn only moments old. A new life, needing me for everything. No doubt uncomfortable in our bright, loud, harsh, big world, I was the only thing familiar she had. I remember trying so hard to replicate the peace she must have had inside me, all warm and quiet. My voice was so calming and soothing to her then, probably because it was all she recognized in her obnoxious new surroundings. She didn't know anything, she couldn't do anything. She was completely helpless, and looking at me, as if she knew I was her only hope. We spent most of our time nursing and sleeping in those days. We bonded in some way that I can't explain. I will treasure those moments that are long gone and the newborn that needed me as much as I needed her. The complete dependence she had on me that I found so scary then is what, I daresay, I miss the most. She's moving on now to bigger and better things all the time. She needs me a little less every day, and now that is what scares me. The newborn baby only moments old, staring up at me, helpless, is all but gone.

And while you're all watching her dig into her smash cake, I'll be remembering that newborn, and saying goodbye.