Lately, I've been recalling this female coworker that I had, oh…about seven years ago. We weren't friends or even good acquaintances. In all honesty, I couldn't stand the gal but I'll save that for another post. No, what I recall is this: Chris and I had been trying and trying and trying for a baby. I then miscarried. Depression, sadness and every other negative emotion all rolled up into my 4'11 body. Anyway, finally, I am pregnant with Ellie. Every day was a exciting day for me. Making plans, thinking of our future. What we'll be like as a family. Back to this lady, Cheryl. She had two girls, beautiful girls. One was in the process of graduating that year and getting ready to head off to college the next. What stands out in my mind, about Cheryl is this: she would CONSTANTLY make references on how she could not wait for her oldest to move out of the house. One down, one to go. She and her husband could finally have some alone time. You get where I'm going. I remember thinking, wow. Here, my husband and I were trying so hard and ready to go through whatever means to have a baby. And here she is, wanting hers out of the house. I was counting down the days to have mine enter my life and she was counting down the days for hers to leave. With respect to Cheryl, I really do not know what happened…I ended up going on maternity leave and never went back. Did she cry the first night, when her oldest was finally absent from her home? Did she want to take back all that she said? Was it just for show and maybe she was really having a tough time (that, I hardly doubt folks, being honest here. She really didn't have a heart. Think vampire.)
I have been having an extremely hard time. Watching my little ones grow up. Right before my eyes. Like over night. One minute I'm holding our first, making vows to her and what a wonderful life we'll have. The next, I'm holding our third, making vows to her and what a wonderful life we'll have, while the first one holds her sister's tiny hand, smiling up at me.
I look at Ellie and I remember how I couldn't leave her behind in somebody else's care without her crying and wanting me. It didn't matter who she was left with: daddy, grandma, or my parents. She wanted only me. When we'd be home, she would be fine if I were in another room but periodically make sure I was still where she left me. If I would snuggle with her in the night, I could feel a tiny little hand reach and touch my face, reassured that I was still there, I would hear a deep sigh then nothing. Off to dreamland she would go.
Chris and I have been recalling what words she would mispronounce, making them her own. Even Chris would find it difficult in understanding what she was saying. But I spoke her language. I knew what she was saying. Here are a few examples from a huge list:
Idawa (at first she would just raise her little arm up into the air then she would combine the two)= I do want
no-ok?(one word)= I would ask if she wanted something like…do you want an apple? No? Okay.
Pooh= Christopher (that one stuck)
Austin (from the Backyardigans)= mommy
JackChristmas= one time, Chris was watching both kids and Ellie kept insisting on watch JackChristmas. He gives me a call, "What the heck is JackChristmas??" The Nightmare before Christmas. Duh.
Mamarail= monorail
pillow= pill.
She'll always be my first. My little sidekick. My mini-me. She has always been a part of me. Even before she existed, I knew her. No matter how old she gets. No matter whose roof she sleeps under. No matter how many miles are between us. But not for a long, long, long time. Although, I am happy that she and all of my babies are growing up, that they're healthy-in mind, body, and spirit. I am in no hurry for the day that they leave our home. I know that they will come back to visit but I dread the day that I will not hear their tiny voices on a daily basis. The "one more book, mama." or holding my hand when we walk. That they won't need me to take them shopping for clothes, treats for school, or park play dates. I dread that they will go off into the world and forget that I'm here. Waiting. So, no. I'm not ready.
BUT- this is really happening. She is growing up. I am so proud of who she is, who she'll become. But if God could just pretty please, whisper in her ear from time to time and remind her that she holds a piece of my heart, which is equally divided between the ones that live under my roof.
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