All parents know that when you celebrate a child’s first birthday, there are such great emotions. While a child’s first year of development is utterly amazing, that first birthday really feels more like a celebration for the parents — a time to really appreciate how much you have grown as a parent and have gone through since pregnancy. There truly is no other birthday quite like the first birthday. But the next big birthday is 10 — the big double digits. In just a short time, my daughter will turn 10. Unlike other birthdays where I felt a little emotional and excited, I feel overcome with emotions.
I have all the feels, all the time
Thanks to the convenience of Facebook memories, I found myself staring at a post where my girl was just 11 months old and I had come home from work. She wanted to nap on me, and I was exhausted. She always, always wanted to nap on me.
When you’re in the middle of it, you want a break. You want the child to move on past their need. You want a little more sleep. You want them to grow.
And then… then they’re growing and it’s gone.
You reach to hug them at 10, and if they’re in the mood, you get ALL the hugs, and if they’re not, you get a half-hearted hug and then they run off to whatever they were doing.
Why didn’t I know that time would go so fast? That while I wished for her to nap on her own or not need me for something that one day, now I would only wish for that nap together. I would only wish to be that needed again, if only for a moment.
I will say one thing about my parenting that was good all those years prior: I played with her
I got on the floor. I swang on swings. I drew with chalk. I played with LOL dolls. Of course now, she doesn’t want me to play dolls with her — just by herself or with a friend, however kids can play during COVID times.
I drank in those moments, but figured I still had some more time to do more things. I figured she wouldn’t transition into a tween just yet. I figured everything would go for her the way it did on my childhood time clock. The one I had mapped out and planned in my head.
But God laughed at my plans.
She entered tweenhood. She walked into the next stage of childhood without asking me my permission — as if I had a choice or a say. My plans and my map went out the window.
I cry over every single photo I see of my daughter under nine years old, but all is not lost
There is still fun to be had and a ton of memories to make. Not to mention, in 10 years, we have done so much together as a single mom and daughter.
She told me the other day, “I don’t know what I’d do without you. You’re my favorite person. We have a bond.”
We’ve lived in three different places. We’ve experienced as a mother-daughter pair divorce, job losses, and financial distress. Hardships we don’t speak of and happy times we hold close to our heart, like beach trips, vacations to see our friends, dance team, fireworks on the Fourth of July and tons more memories. Every time she was sick or every time she danced in a show or sang in a concert or acted in a play, I was there.
And I’d be a liar if I didn’t tell the truth: that I’ve grown up along with her. That while she’s gone from baby to big girl, with adolescence hovering over us all too closely, I have become a woman. A strong woman. A stronger mother. A better person.
I don’t know how to thank her for that.
I'm still standing to catch the bouquet
Whenever I used to go to a wedding in my 20s, I would stand there and try to catch the bouquet. What was I really hoping for? Hope, I suppose. Sometimes it slipped through my hands, and other times I caught it.
That’s what the last 10 years has been: Sometimes I was exactly the parent I needed to be — catching the moment, enjoying it, and holding it in my hands. Other times I was frustrated, missing the moment or lesson by a few minutes or precious seconds.
Ten years has taught me that I will always stand up and try my best for my daughter, and even though I may drop the bouquet once in a while, other times I will catch it. But I will always, always stand with open arms, welcoming her, welcoming hope, and trying to help her become exactly who she is supposed to be.
The 10th is harder than I expected
This is the first big milestone we have hit in a long time. I didn’t expect to be so emotional. I didn’t expect to frantically search pictures wondering how it happened so fast, jogging my memories and wondering why I struggled to remember certain things but not others.
Wishing, wishing, and wishing I could redo parts of her life for just a moment. To hear that toddler laugh. To hear that 3-year-old defiance. To see that 4-year-old curiosity. To feel that 5-year-old “big girl” independence. To experience sweet 6. To laugh and be impressed by years 7, 8, and 9.
But it’s gone.
The best is yet to come they say. But, still, mamas — hold your babies tight.
