Nine years ago, I was blessed with the birth of my beautiful daughter.
We had been waiting for her arrival for too long. It was not easy to get to the moment where I could finally hear her first cry. This moment was real. Here she was in my arms, and I had just become a mom. I was beyond happy.
Since the day of her arrival, it felt like time stopped for me but doubled in speed for my little girl. With a blink of an eye, she was crawling, walking, and babbling her first words (her very first word was Mamma – yay!).
Now when I see her, nine years later and standing in front of me, she definitely says more than Mamma.
She has her own opinions, and she lets us know when she is not happy. One day I found myself arguing about something with her, and I saw frustration inside her eyes. She was angry! She kept talking very passionate about her point of view, and I have to admit that her arguments were pretty good.
I got lost in her words. This is something new, I thought.
All of the sudden the memories inside my head were louder than her voice. The girl in front of me was not a smiley little girl anymore.
I started wondering when did that version of her changed? I realized that I miss the little person I created very much, a strange feeling to experience. She was in front of me, but I missed the little person she used to be. In that brief moment, I missed her voice, her baby sweetness, and the way she always held my hand when we walked down the street.
She is more independent.
Her friends are replacing me little by little.
She argues, rolls her eyes, and raises her voice.
She doesn’t always look for my hand like she used to do.
I know that this is these are natural changes that have to happen. I would be worried if this was not happening. It is just happening too fast. To me, she is still a little girl, and I am humbly accepting that she is changing.
She is growing up and although I miss the little version of her, I see love beyond the frustration.
I am amazed of her creativity, curiosity, and kindness; the love I have for her is unlimited. I will always be her biggest fan and greatest cheerleader.
But I really hope she understands that I am also “growing up” to be a parent of a young girl. As her mother, and as scary it may sometimes be, I feel grateful for this once in my lifetime experience to have the privilege of watching her grow up.