And just like that, she was gone.
I’ll never forget the feeling I had the first time she left. Then it was another one that left. Then another. Then yet again, another left.
Being a parent to little girls may not seem like a big deal to some, and although I don’t personally know, I imagine the feeling is the same with little boys. It just seems that from the first time you lay your eyes on your baby, you hear that cry, you see the nurses and doctor cleaning them off, you can’t help but fall in love.
It never gets old. The births are never the same. Falling in love is a pretty good feeling. I can’t imagine too many more emotions that could beat out good old-fashioned love.
It all happens so quickly, you know? It’s like one day they’re in the hospital, being swaddled over and over again by overzealous parents, learning how to eat, learning their parent’s voices, and one day it happens. One day they talk. They say “dada,” or “mama,” or “f word.” The first words are always so special, because as a parent you have been spending every single day of their young life trying to get them to utter a word. You just want to hear that voice. When you hear that voice sputter out what sounds like an actual word for the first time, it truly sounds magical.
As the months pass by, as you watch their hair grow, their senses develop, their willingness to walk exceeds their capabilities, yet another phase of their young life passes you by. Their crawl has turned into a waddle, and a year later, a kid speeds past you in the hallway yelling out somewhat intelligible phrases.
As a parent, you spend countless hours talking to, singing to, and trying to teach your little human, your precious mini-me letters of the alphabet. You try to show them how to write their name, you teach them your home address, and your phone number. You help them learn to put on their clothes, and you teach them how to make the little rabbit ears out of the shoelaces and finally tie them.
We parents are responsible for a lot. These tiny humans are special. They really are. Each individual has a unique voice, a unique persona, and a unique soul. We parents are supposed to find out what makes our child click, what makes them yearn for more teachings, and what does not work with them.
We teach them how to use the potty, how to brush and floss their teeth. We teach them that eating healthy is good, but an occasional snack is OK. We teach them to help out with small chores, and this whole entire time we are doing these things, our children are becoming ready for one thing.
School. The dreaded, the revered, the highly anticipated Kindergarten.
My youngest daughter did it everyone. My baby definitely isn’t a baby anymore. Following in her three older sister’s footsteps, she finally did it. On to her next stage of life.
Just like that, she’s gone.