Beautiful Transitions

My darling, sassy, compassionate little girl just lost her first top tooth the other day. To many this may seem commonplace but to me it felt huge. There was excitement, tears, and eventually, a big gummy hole, but we now have a very proud, very snaggletoothed almost 6 year old.

As soon as I saw her smile for the first time with that well-earned, delightful little gaping space between her teeth, my eyes brimmed with tears. Tears that were weighted heavily by pride, joy, sadness and worry.

We’ve had a trying few weeks with my babe. A lot of unwarranted crying, whining, complaining, and just general funkiness. My husband and I have spouted off labels like, ‘spoiled’, ‘entitlement’ and ‘ungrateful’, while trying to rationalize with my angsty almost 6 year old. Then, I landed my pointing finger on the pandemic as the blame for her emotional rollercoaster.

But the night she lost her tooth I had an incredible epiphany, realizing that her recent struggles are something more than just being isolated for a year. Pandemic or not, my first born is having a coming of age experience. My girl is in a beautiful transition. She is torn between her identity as a little kid and her blossoming bigger kid status. She still sucks her thumb and sleeps with mama and daddy most nights. But she also asks thought-provoking questions that I struggle to answer, and struts around the house like a mini content creator, (gag, I know), taking pictures and making not-quite-in-context phrases like, “oh, that’s so jinx”.

It’s easy to feel sadness that a season of her life, and mine, is slipping through my fingertips. But I also feel immense joy watching her test the new waters that she is approaching. She’s finding her footing in this new phase of who she will ultimately become.

There will always be a slight yearning, a tug of my heart strings, for the days that my only job was to feed, protect and nurture. Those days felt hard, and in some ways they really were. But there was such simplicity in those early days. It was me and my baby, learning each other by heart, growing and learning.

I am scared that I won’t be capable to tackle the tough questions, the heartaches, life’s tricky situations. This next stage brings a new level of complication to our world. I won’t be there to guard and guide every conflict and uncomfortable scenario. I question myself everyday if I’m doing enough to prepare her for a world that is sometimes harsh and unkind.

But, when I look deeply into her beautiful brown eyes, I see light, wonder, and insane curiosity. Her eyes fill me with hope and calm. They speak to my aching mama heart saying, “Mama, we’ve got this.”

I am grateful for every day that I have the opportunity to watch her become an individual, a big sibling, a contributor to our community. As parents, this is what we are supposed to do.

I want to hold her in my arms forever, freeze-framing every moment in time, but, she isn’t mine to own. Her journey is autonomous of me, so I will let her go, slowly but surely, giving her guidances on her journey. But I assure you, I will hang on to every last bits of baby pudge and snuggles.