Today she turns nine.
Nine!
Some days it’s hard to believe nine years have gone by. Other days it feels like she’s been with us forever.
People told me my babies would grow up. They said it would happen before I could blink. They told me that one day, those sleepless nights would be only tiny memories in the back of my mind. They told me to push through, to treasure these days; that in a few years, I would miss those tiny fingers and toes.
Nine years later, here we are. No more tiny fingers. No more tiny toes. Not many sleepless nights. And you know what? There’s not a day that goes by that I look back on those days and wish for them again. I mean, I loved my babies dearly. I’d do it all over again to bring them into my life, but let’s be real. There was always so much work involved.
The truth is, I like nine. It might be my favorite so far. She gets herself ready without too much prodding. She can mostly entertain herself. She plays with her sister, and with friends, without needing supervision. Homeschooling these days feels less like I’m leading her and more like we’re learning together. I’m constantly amazed by her creativity—by her ability to create masterpieces from nothing but trash. Her craftiness far surpasses my own abilities, and sometimes I can’t help but stand in awe.
Just looking at her the last few weeks has made me a little sad. She’s changing from little girl to young lady right before my eyes. Her body shows slight changes. Her muscles more defined. Her dancing is more beautiful, more grown-up, more art. Her face looks older while keeping the same features she’s always had. I love this person she is; the young lady she’s becoming. She’s empathetic and smart. She’s the best friend anyone could ever have. She has a smile that lights up the room. When I close my eyes, I see her not as the babe she once was, but as the woman she will be.
Don’t get me wrong. She’s still a kid. She still needs her Mom—and often her biggest needs come when I feel least willing to give. Maybe that’s what God intended when he entrusted her to me. The ultimate lesson in sacrifice and love.
The days of changing diapers, of reading endless board books, of bouncing on an exercise ball, holding her against my chest, so she would get the rest she desperately needed. The days of wondering what she’s thinking or what she needs. The days of strapping her into her carseat, of saying no to outings because of the way she hates the car. Winter days where I spent far too many minutes making her stay still, so I could put all the things on her to keep her warm when she goes outside to play. Summer days where I was afraid of leaving her alone next to an inch of water, for fear she’d drown.
Those days are finally over. And I couldn’t be more glad.
As she becomes older, I shift from constant caregiver to mentor, and that is really the core of who I am. Who I have always been.
She has changed my life—that kid—from the moment she was conceived. I had no idea how much life would change. How much I would struggle to find myself again. And yet in the parenting choices we’ve made, in my staying home with her every day, in my willingness to sacrifice my time over and over again—none of it has taken away my dreams. Instead, she’s helped me find myself again.
For a few years, being just a mom was mostly enough. Because of her, I learned how to be mindful. I learned to be still. She taught me how to be present and how to listen; how to feel and how to love. Because of her, I learned to pray. She taught me how to sit in the messiness of emotions. I learned how to multitask, and how to creatively solve problems, and how to trust the still small voice that shows up in the middle of the night. She is the first-born child God knew I needed. Every single day, God uses her to teach me a little something more.
And now that we’ve hit this sweet spot that we’re in, she’s embracing my dreams as her own. She’s becoming not only my inspiration but also my best cheerleader. She lifts me up when I’m feeling down and hugs me when I need it most. She loves the entire world as fiercely as I love her and she is not at all afraid to show it.
I want to savor every moment of this last year of single-digit ages. Because like they tell me—my babies will grow up before I can blink. And this time I know I’ll look back and miss these days of nine.
📸 Adrian Curiel on Unsplash.