“While we try to teach our children all about life, our children teach us what life is all about.” — Angela Schwindt

Today my daughter started kindergarten. And what a bittersweet day it was. I watched her and she danced around in front of the morning glory flowers in her daisy polka dot dress. She bounced so proudly, holding the sign that displayed all of the things that she was hoping to learn for the school year. She is getting so big.

And like any mom, I couldn’t help but think about the day that she was born. It was a cool New Years Eve afternoon when she came into this world. Her fuzzy brown hair a mess atop her small puffy head. All I could focus on was her.

Much later, when the doctors and the guests left, the business of the hospital died down. It was just me, her, and my sleeping mother in the corner of the room. It was a delicate moment. A time I could remember. A time before postpartum consumed me. A time I will treasure in my memory forever.

I laid holding her. Her tiny little face pressed against my chest. She was sleeping.

Dusk had long since left us when the fireworks started. Lucky my birthing room overlooked SeaWorld, who almost always have a fireworks show. I gently lifted my baby girl up to the window, as if she could see, and whispered to her, “look my love, the fireworks are for you and every birthday.”

Now she stands before me and she’s not so little. I can’t hold her like a small infant. Her little fingers are not so little, they can no longer wrap around my one finger. Her soft little cries are now a big voice. She’s her own. And I’m so proud of her.

With a mothers love,

Shay

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