"Excited would not be the word I would use to describe how I feel," I responded without hesitation.
"Yes, but do you feel excited about her starting something new and that she is at this time in her life?"
NO! I can say with absolute certainty that there is not any part of me that remotely feels any of these type of feelings. My baby girl is really not a baby girl anymore. She constantly reminds me that she is a big girl. She often insists on brushing her own hair, doesn't allow Daddy to swing her up into her bunk bed anymore, but instead climbs the ladder on her own, and easily and naturally turns on an attitude that resembles a thirteen year old complete with eye rolls and sighs.
For too long I have been in denial about Keira starting Kindergarten, but my underlying anxiety slapped me in the face hard when I had a nightmare several weeks ago about her first day of school and I woke up nearly unable to pull myself together as the tears flowed. The dream itself was completely ridiculous and somewhat comical. The teachers were all dressed like playboy bunnies and I did something to basically ruin the entire school's computer system. Nonetheless, the dream clearly revealed to me that I needed to face head on my own issues with dealing with this next step in my daughter's life and the significant change it will bring to our family.
Am I excited about my baby going to Kindergarten? No, of course not. Plain and simple, it is yet another reminder that I have no choice but to continue to let go. I have no choice but to let go, but it is my choice how I let go. Will I go through the motions and send her to Kindergarten while still treating her like a baby and expecting little of her or will I gracefully let go, encouraging the development of her growing independence and expecting her to live into this new stage in her life?
My choice is to let go gracefully and faithfully. My choice is to let go knowing that I can and must trust God to care for her, not kicking and screaming. My choice is to let go well, while still giving myself some grace and allowing myself to shed as many tears as I need to shed.
On the night before we walk our precious girl into her new school and leave her there to enter into a new phase in life, my choice is to let go gracefully and to send her off with words of encouragement and excitement while dealing with my own anxiety.
On the night before this new adventure begins, I am grateful. I am grateful that I don't have to have all the answers at this moment. I know that Keira will experience this transition in ways that she will never be able to articulate and that her own anxiety will show itself in unexpected ways. I am grateful knowing that God will walk beside Matt and I as we faithfully maneuver through this time and seek to exercise patience and understanding and offer great love and encouragement to her as she continues to figure out what growing up is all about.
On this night before my girl experiences her first "first day of school", I am thankful for the simple gifts and provisions that are so evident. We went to the school tonight for an open house and to meet the teacher. When we got to the school, the kids' classroom assignments were listed on the outside doors. Just as I had hoped, Keira's teacher this year will be Mrs. Bates, a wonderful and trusted friend from our church. When we got into the classroom, Mrs. Bates immediately welcomed Keira by name from across the room and called her to come and stand next to her. There is something unbelievably comforting about knowing that your child is known. Keira doesn't know Mrs. Bates yet, but Heather knows her and I know that I can enter the year completely comfortable with bombarding Heather with the silly questions that the first time mother-of-a-kindergartner asks and feel confident that Keira is being taught by a person of love and character. I am so thankful and I recognize the immeasurable gift of this.
It's the night before and my mind is swimming with thoughts of making sure the "morning of" goes well. I must make myself get up the second my alarm goes off so that I can enjoy my girl and meet her requests to the best of my ability for her first day of Kindergarten. She wants her nails painted pink to match her new pink dress, pink bracelet, pink shoes, and pink flower in her hair. At her request, I'll use the curling iron to add a little extra bounce and curls to her beautiful hair and I'll make heart shaped eggs for breakfast. Undoubtedly, the last few rushed moments at home will be spent taking a few pictures and piling into the truck. Matt, Judah, and I will walk her into her classroom and leave her with a smile and kiss to face this new adventure on her own. I don't know if my tears will start the very moment I am sure she can't see me anymore, as soon as I walk out of the school, or if I will manage to hold them in until I am sitting out of sight in the car, but the tears will come.
It's the night before and I am already crying. I am crying tears that hold some of the same emotions I felt the moment the doctor placed her my arms the day she came into this world. These are the same tears I will shed when she graduates from high school and we drop her off at college and all of the other moments of "letting go" between now and then. These are tears marked by a love so strong and so sweet, a love that cannot be expressed in words, but are the unspoken language of every mama who knows the joy of motherhood and knows the pain of letting go.
It's the night before and I still readily own that I am not excited, but my heart is filled with peace, and that is all that I could ever hope for.
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| Posing after enjoying ice cream sandwiches in the cafeteria. |
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| A Mama and Keira moment. |
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| Keira waits patiently to talk with Mrs. Bates while Mommy fills out paperwork. |
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| Big Girl photo op in front of the cafeteria wall mural. |
