Bitter Sweet

The real birthday has happened. She is six years old now. She can ride her bike, daringly might I add, sound out words, and speak most intelligently. Her personality is more and more evident as she grows. Of course I love her whole heartedly.

Freedom reigns with an older child; for her and for her parents. She no longer needs my full attention at every moment, but thank God, she still comes for a hug and a kiss, or to snuggle up and read a book. She can make more choices, and I can do more than just care for children. I can begin to exercise my own interests again, and she can find hers... and then change her mind.

So why do I want to cry? I feel like I am saying goodbye to my babies. Change is inevitable, this I know. We are entering a wonderful new phase of our lives, yet I mourn the loss of the old one. A part of me wants to hold and nurse a baby again; to be needed at every moment of my days and nights; to hold that tiny little, needy body that loves me so purely. But our goal is to grow them up. So I must let go of the past and nurture my 'baby' in a new way. May God help me.