Closing A Chapter!

Inhale. Exhale. I need to take a deep breath. I need to slow my racing mind and center it on this present moment. My mind is distracted with thoughts that are out of my control and if I am being honest, thoughts that are not serving me well.

This past week Ruby started preschool. She has her pink unicorn backpack she wears with pride. She walks into her school building with confidence and purpose. She is secure and happy. To say this puts my heart at ease would be an understatement. She is prepared for this new chapter and it is evident.

And yet, this change for me is hard. It’s not hard because I don’t want her to learn without me, but hard because she is my last baby. Seeing her begin preschool reminds me that the baby days for me are over. Every stage completed with her is my last. It’s funny because when I was pregnant with her I knew she was my final child. I made peace with it at that time and was fully accepting of this decision. For this reason, I was so much more intentional with my pregnancy. I made a point of savoring the newborn stages with her. I dove head first into my motherhood appreciation and I am very grateful for that. Had I not known she would be my last, I don’t think I would have treasured that time with her as much as I did. Looking back, I know I gave my all to the early years of life with Ruby. And it shows! She’s exactly where she needs to be.

Have you ever read a really good book that you just couldn’t put down? Each page left you wanting more. The story captivated you in a way you were not accustomed to. And then you read the final sentence in the novel. “It’s over already?” You ask yourself with surprise and sadness. You were so engrossed in the character’s lives that you overlooked the fact that the story would eventually end. “But what happens next?” You ask yourself with an investment in the characters as if you personally know them.

This is how I feel with my daughter at this current time. Not because she won’t have more adventures ahead. Her story has just begun and with any luck, she’ll live a multitude of amazing adventures with and without me. Rather, the finality I am referring to is in knowing a chapter in her story is complete. A fun, happy, and silly chapter is now done. I can’t go back. I can’t freeze it. I must accept it.

Her early stages of life were so captivating. So beautiful. I couldn’t stop myself from looking forward to each new passage. I deeply loved it. And then I read the final chapter and realized what was would now be different. She’s going to school. She won’t be with me all the time. This my friend is life. It’s captivating. It’s a rollercoaster of emotions. The hard parts are just as important as the good. And it’s ultimately always changing. It never remains the same because it is always in a state of motion.

Truthfully, I know things need to change if they are meant to thrive. But as a mother it’s hard knowing that all the hours and effort I put into my children will ultimately lead to them no longer needing me. Please know, I can hear your inner thoughts right now. If I were in front of you, I’m guessing you’d say something like this to me, “Joy, your kids will never stop needing you regardless of their age!” I hear you! And I know in some ways, they will still need me, but there’s nothing like kissing your child’s little hand when it’s been bruised or the feel of their chubby arms around your neck when they give you the biggest hug you’ve ever experienced. For so long my children relied on me. They needed me to comfort them when they fell. They needed my snuggles before bed. Each time I say goodnight to my son and daughter I know that is one less goodnight with them under one roof.

Today as I write, I remind myself that although an end will eventually come, I must embrace this current moment with gratitude. Reminding myself of the following, I am not sad that it is over, but rather I am grateful I was able to experience it. I helped to create life and those lives gave me more than I could ever ask for. My journey, like theirs, is not over. It will continue to change as they continue to change. Part of every good book is in the inevitable end. It’s what keeps us hungry for the next.

This morning I hold my daughter on my lap near our firepit in our backyard. Our grass is dry from the past August we had. Leaves have begun to gently fall to the ground, only adding to the earth’s crunchy dryness. My little girl loves to cuddle. She loved being close. I tell myself to remember this moment. Take a mental picture of it and pray it never fades. I remind myself just how lucky and blessed I am. In this moment I am happy not because I know this moment will never end, but happy I can experience it fully. I know it will eventually end, but knowing something new is around the corner keeps me motivated for more.