I held on way too long. I knew it wasn’t a great idea. I knew that eventually I’d have to stop. But I loved the ritual, the closeness, the quietness of it. But Saturday, it just hit me. It was time.

I stopped rocking Mia to sleep.

She didn’t always need it. She could fall asleep on her own just fine. But she still fit so snugly on my lap, and it was 20 minutes of quiet closeness with my wiggly, busy 5-year-old.

But it had to end. She’s not a baby anymore.

But my heart.

There are a lot of really difficult things about parenthood, but I think the worst is the endings. Time just keeps ticking along, and I’m so proud of them and heartbroken all at the same time. Like one last time after another.

Tonight it hit Mia, too. She realized that we weren’t going to be rocking anymore. And her lip quivered, and I gave her a hug and said, “Change is hard, I know.”
And then from behind me, “Change is a part of life, Mia,” said brave little guy who has seen more change than an 8-year-old should.

I underestimate my kids a lot. And I don’t think it’s because I don’t trust them or I don’t think they can do it. I think it’s just because watching them become more and more independent is so bitter sweet. I want them to be independent, but I still want them to be my babies at the same time. I underestimate how much they understand, how resilient they are, and how strong they are.

I’ve seen so many big changes in Mia over the school year already. Participating in class, making new friends, using more words. She’s growing up.

And I’ve seen so many changes in Fynn. He’s adapting and growing, loving learning and reading, and helping around the house. He’s growing up.

All three of us snuggled in bed tonight reading stories. Mia was still getting used this change, and she would sniff a little, and start to tear up, and Fynn would hug her and make her laugh. And then I said good night and kissed her on the cheek and Fynn kissed her other cheek.

Change is a part of life.

This entry was posted in Uncategorized. Bookmark the permalink.