Moments

Today is my daughter's fourth birthday. She is growing and maturing before my very eyes everyday. I am honored to celebrate with her. But I mourned a little today too. When my son has a birthday, I think about the day he was born. I pay attention to the clock throughout the day, particularly around the time he officially arrived. My husband and I often reminisce about his birth. While this is a source of joy for me in regard to my son, for my daughter, it is a source of sadness. As a mother, I mourn the loss of carrying her in my womb. I grieve that I was not there when she made her debut. I don't even know what she looked like as a baby, if she had hair, the time she was born, or what she weighed. She walked into our lives as a 15-month old. While I know she has a history before coming here, it feels as though she doesn't because I don't know anything about it. The keeper of the answers to these questions is another mother, the one who was there. I am envious of her. Her body nurtured this little girl. She was the first person to snuggle her and look into her eyes. She knows if there were soft tendrils of hair or only peach fuzz in the beginning. She was there for that special moment. I covet those moments that belong to her and not to me. But I know that I have the better deal. The other mother holds those moments now and nothing else. They are all she has left, and I have everything else of our daughter. It is my hand that holds her small one when we cross a parking lot. I know that tonight, on her fourth birthday, she bravely scaled the ladder of her bunkbed to sleep on the top bunk for the first time in her life. I will know the moment when she learns to ride her bike, when she discovers the magic of reading, and when she is asked on her first date. I will shop for the prom dresses and the wedding gown, one day. While I wish all of her moments had been mine from the very beginning, I know how blessed I am to hold the last 2 1/2 years of memories and those yet to come.