Will you forgive me?

Updated: Dec 7, 2020

THREE.


You, my baby, are turning three. And it is hitting me so hard.

Just weeks ago, your Aunt watched me burst into full blown tears, surrounded by luggage in the backseat of our car, because I realized the next monumental thing happening after our Brokenbow getaway would be celebrating your birthday. And I suppose I realized, in that moment, that my heart is just not ready to let you grow.


 You are confident. You are vibrant. You are strong. You are stubborn. You are full of joy. You are a burst of unapologetic color. You are kind. You are gentle. You are empathetic. You are everything I could dream you to be, all packed into a wonderfully petite package.


Yet, in the face of all of the big, big things you are, you still feel like my tiny baby. I know you grow, in mountainous strides, towards being a big girl but I honestly just want to freeze time and hang out here just a little bit longer.


I think this is what is making three so hard to face; this is what makes my lip quiver and my welling tears spill over: the idea that you are truly breaking free of that “baby” mold and confidently coming into the little person you are destined to be. Believe me, when I say it makes me proud to watch you hold up your precious little fingers and announce to anyone who will listen that “Soon, I will be THREE!” I hope you won’t misinterpret these lamenting sentiments for a lack of pride-if I could monetize it, baby, you’d never work a day in our lives. It’s just me wanting to hang onto the smallness of you for as long as I can.


So, as we approach your third year around the sun, will you forgive me for hanging on a little tighter? Will you forgive me, for snuggling a little longer? Will you forgive me, as I offer to do things for you that you so clearly can do yourself? Will you forgive me, as I move a little slower into the days ahead? Will you forgive me, for each time you find me staring at you, etching every bit of your tiny frame into my mommin’ heart? 


You see, this Mama’s heart just isn’t ready.


But I’m buckled up.

And there you grow.