Empty Hip

I guess you could say I did okay today . . . minus the canyon size hole in my heart every time I turned around to look for my girl. I never realized how much I took mental note of her whereabouts until now. Every time I've glanced this afternoon, she hasn't been there. It is kind of like missing a limb.

We both did pretty well this morning. Orientation the night before really helped put Makayla (and mommy) at ease. She discovered that her classroom was colorful and fun, that her teacher was very nice, and that she already knows one of the other little girls in her class. (This is important stuff you know.)

So at 11:35am, I parked the van and helped my little princess out with her backpack and stuffed bunny. The boys and girls were encouraged to bring a friend from home today. Makayla choose her build-a-bear "Sparkle".

"See, you get to bring a friend with you today. How neat is that?" I said.

She agreed with enthusiasm. We crowded in with parents and little ones. Moms and dads were invited in to help find the cubby whereabouts. So I went with the protocol, and followed close behind with my camcorder and digital camera. This was a moment I didn't want to miss.

Afterwards, the students took a seat on the carpet and Mrs. A began reading a story. I watched Makayla's every move. So much of my heart connected to hers, even though no words were exchanged. I knew by her facial expressions what she was feeling. I imagined what she was thinking, what her questions would be, and what worried and excited her.

There I stood, on the verge of watching my last child leave the infant nest. Without even thinking about it I was anticipating her needs . . . needs that I would no longer need to meet. No more rocking her to sleep. No nursing or bottles. Diapers and Binky's had become a thing of the past. All in one blink.

When it was time for the parents to say good-bye, we gave a wave and headed out the door. I blew her a kiss, and she blew me one back. As I headed out to the car, I was surprised at how well I was doing, until I spotted the mom walking in front of me. She was carrying a little girl on her hip . . . and I realized that I don't have anyone to carry on my hip anymore. When Matthew went to school, I had Michael. And when Michael went, I had Makayla. Today, my hip was empty. And hence, came a good cry.

The emptiness made it difficult to breathe. God was showing me something in those moments, that I was finally able to understand about my childhood. Growing up I always felt like my little sister got more of my Mom's attention. It has been hurtful at times and difficult for me to understand, until now. I know that my Mom loved us both the same, and today I was able to stand in her shoes for just a moment. I was able to see why letting go of your last one is the hardest. There is something about wanting to make sure they are okay . . . it's what a mom does, you know? I discovered today that after your last child moves on, the need to nurture somehow never dies.

That will be my last "first day of Kindergarten", and that is a hard thing for me to absorb. I will not get another chance to carry her around on my hip, or to spend money on jumpers and gowns. Her favorite blankey will someday be a thing of the past, and those sweet curls won't always be so soft.

Watching my kids grow brings a mix of joy and pain. Matthew started sixth grade today, making him one year away from junior high - gulp. Michael stared third grade (my favorite grade in the world) and looks more and more like my dad everyday.

And on this day, my little girl was initiated into the big world - with Sparkle in one hand and mom's love tucked in her pocket.