Dear Little C…
It is almost here. I’ve been avoiding it as long as I possibly can but it is inevitable and you have to grow up, I suppose. I have four days left with you before you start Kindergarten and I have slowly been falling apart all summer.
You are my joy and my laughter. You carry my heart inside your small frame. You are an amazing gift from God and I am in awe that God chose me to be your mother. I really don’t want to share you for eight hours every day, five days a week. I’ve gotten quite attached to our cuddle time in the mornings as you sneak sips of my coffee when you think I am not looking. I will miss our afternoon nature walks and spontaneous dance parties during the day for no reason at all. Watching you watch the Olympics this year, I saw a sparkle in your eyes that gave me goosebumps.
After running with the sprinters, doing perfect cartwheels and round-off flip flops with the gymnasts and your own floor routines, you stated in a very matter of fact tone that you will win a gold medal in the Olympics someday. As you said this, I realized that you probably will. You have a fire in your heart for all things athletic and I’m afraid you inherited my extreme competitive spirit. Even if it’s not the Olympics, baby – you will win the gold in whatever you put your heart into.
You have been so patient with me during this season of sickness. You have developed an understanding and empathy that I have never seen in someone so young. I’m sorry you have had to endure this by my side for so long but I know that God will use it in your life to develop you into who you are called to be. You have a deeply caring heart for others that is evident in everything you do. Your gentle sweetness has lifted my spirit on the days when I couldn’t do much more than hold you – and you were always okay with that. Thank you for all the hugs and the beautiful sweet prayers whispered in my ear. Your happiness is so infectious everywhere you go and school will be no different.
This picture of you dancing on the ocean’s edge captures your personality better than words ever could. You light up from the inside. You have danced with delight through these five years of life and I can’t wait to see how you dance through the coming years. I have started and stopped this letter several hundred times but had to stop because of the tears. I am so excited for you to begin this next chapter in life but oh, how I will miss my little attachment! I know the first few weeks at least, we will both feel like we are missing a limb and it’s going to be really hard. When you need me, remember the words of the song I have sung to you every night since you were born. . .
Baby mine, don’t you cry
Baby mine, dry your eyes
Rest your head close to my heart
Never to part, baby of mine
Little one when you play
Don’t you mind what they say
Let those eyes sparkle and shine
Never a tear, baby of mine
If they knew sweet little you
They’d end up loving you too
All those same people who scold you
What they’d give just for
The right to hold you
From your head to your toes
You’re not much, goodness knows
But you’re so precious to me
Cute as can be, baby you’re mine
Motherhood is a roller coaster of emotions and I know there have been days when I have not been the best mother I could have been, but one thing will stay the same no matter what…you will always be my baby. I love you more than pumpkin spice latte’s in the fall.
Happy Kindergarten, baby girl!!